-. 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


I* 


•'  Then  through  a  veil  of  dreams, 

Woven  by  thought,  truth's  youthful  beauty  glows. 
And  life's  redundant  and  rejoicing  streams 
Give  to  the  soulless  soul,  where'er  it  flows." 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY: 


TALES 


,  ftifftrif;  anfr  Dmriptiue. 


MARY    J.    WINDLE. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

C.    SHERMAN,    PRINTER, 

1850. 


£Jr  filliBiif  f  igts 


1202O39 


THE  authoress  of  the  following  stories  has  been  induced 
i 

to  allow  their  publication  in  their  present  compact  form, 
from  consideration  of  the  extent  and  duration  of  the 
favour  which  has  been  unexpectedly  extended  to  them, 
when  modestly  peeping  out  amidst  the  brilliant  contri 
butions  by  which  the  chief  monthly  magazines  of  this 
country  are  so  deservedly  distinguished.  The  hope  is 
entertained,  that  what  gave  pleasure  in  an  imperfect 
and  broken  form  may,  in  completion,  not  give  less. 
Should  the  reader  chance  to  find  scope  for  enjoyment 
in  these  collected  labours  of  many  days,  the  writer  will 
have  had  her  purpose  accomplished ;  and  without  re 
garding  this  present  approbation  as  an  absolute  pledge 
of  future  favour,  will  be  incited  to  more  mature  endeavours 


Vlll  PEEFACE. 

to  add  to  the  available  enjoyments  of  domestic  leisure. 
Relinquishing  all  thoughts  of  a  fantastic  and  needless 
brilliancy,  she  has  applied  herself  to  the  task  of  imparting 
instruction  and  pleasure,  ready  to  be  satisfied  if,  in  the 
main,  these  writings  minister  to  human  sympathies. 

M.  J.  W. 

Wilmington,  Delaware,  1850. 


PAGE 

THE   HUGUENOT, 13 

FLORENCE   DE   ROHAN, 99 

THE   LADY   OF   THE    ROCK, 133 


THE     HUGUENOT. 


TRUTH   AND   FANCY. 


n  gu  en 


CHAPTER   I. 

"Now  through  the  harmonious  meads 
One  glimmering  path,  or  lost  in  forest  leads, 
Or  up  the  winding  hill  doth  labouring  climb — 
The  single  street  that  rural  world  dividing. 
O'er  the  smooth  stream  the  quiet  rafts  are  gliding; 
And  through  the  lively  fields,  heard  faintly,  goes 
The  many  sheep-bells'  music — and  the  song 
Of  the  lone  herdsman,  from  its  still  repose 
Rouses  the  gentle  echo ! — Calm  along 
The  stream,  gay  hamlets  crown  the  pastoral  scene, 
Or  peep  through  distant  glades,  or  from  the  hill 
Hang  dizzy  down !     Man  and  the  soil  serene 
Dwell  neighbour-like  together — and  the  still 
Meadow  sleeps  peaceful  round  the  rural  door— 
And,  all-familiar,  wreathes  and  clusters  o'er 
The  lowly  casement,  the  green  vine's  embrace, 
As  with  a  loving  arm,  clasping  the  gentle  place." 

THERE  are  portions  of  this  beautiful  world  that  seem, 
through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  time,  to  have  retained  their 
primeval  loveliness ;  which,  with  their  gushing  streams, 

*  The  term  Huguenot  was  given  to  the  French  Protestants;  the 
origin  of  the  term  has  never  been  found  out.  Their  religion  was  a 
simple  form  of  worship,  in  which  the  preachers  expounded  the  Holy 
Scriptures  in  their  vernacular  tongue,  and  assured  the  congregation 

2 


14  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

and  hills,  and  plants,  and  forests,  do  verily  sing  for  joy. 
How  true  is  it  that  nature  never  ceases  to  respect  her 
early  handiwork  !  The  children  whom  she  has  chanced  to 
glorify  with  beauty  at  the  first,  she  will  never  fail  to  tend; 
those  once  neglected,  she  is  likely  to  neglect  evermore. 
As  we  gaze  upon  her  choicest  scenes,  we  readily  image  to 
ourselves  the  same  reposeful  magnificence  as  when 

"  The  earth  rested  quiet, 
And  poised  in  the  air, 
And  heaven's  blue  bosom 
Lay  naked  and  bare." 

The  soul  unfolds  itself  with  a  new  sense  of  freedom,  and 
becomes  beguiled  of  all  its  earthward  tendencies  and  cares. 
It  is  no  slight  charm  to  the  story  I  am  about  to  pen, 
that  its  first  chapter  opens  upon  one  of  the  most  delightful 
provinces  of  southern  France — a  province  exhibiting  every 
variety  of  picturesque  scenery, — from  wavelike  undulations 
of  land,  and  streamlets  that  look  like  veins  of  silver  as 

that  their  worship,  to  be  accepted,  must  proceed  from  the  heart. 
A  congregation  of  these  people  was  privately  established  at  Meaux, 
in  one  of  the  southern  provinces  of  France,  in  the  year  1513,  and  their 
doctrines  made  so  much  progress  that  the  lordly  proprietor  of  that  dis 
trict,  a  violent  and  sanguinary  man,  became  alarmed,  and  made  such 
representations  before  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  that  an  edict  against 
the  heretics  was  published  in  1520.  It  was  then  decreed  that  they 
should  be  exterminated  as  rebels,  and  their  goods  confiscated.  Most 
of  them  fled  to  Switzerland,  taking  refuge  in  the  mountainous  districts 
of  Piedmont,  where,  in  the  shadows  of  the  lonely  hills,  they  could  serve 
God  in  secret.  There  for  the  space  of  three  hundred  years  we  shall 
find  them  continuing  to  carry  on  the  unbroken  line  of  Protestantism 
in  France. — Browning's  History  of  the  Huguenots. 


THE  HUGUENOT.  15 

they  run,  to  fantastic  promontories  capped  by  knolls  of 
shady  trees,  and,  where  not  lashed  by  waterfalls,  bound  in 
by  flowers  and  mosses.  To  behold  this  rare  paradise,  the  sun, 
moon,  and  stars  look  through  a  low,  warm,  mellow  sky, 
the  want  of  clearness  in  which  is  atoned  for  by  the  many 
lustrous  tints  that  trace  themselves  continually  upon  its 
surface.  And  if  to  the  chastened  radiance  of  its  days, 
and  the  undisturbed  tranquillity  of  its  nights,  the  pro 
vince  of  Dauphin^  be  presumed  to  possess  the  charms  of 
a  smiling  season,  the  reader  most  probably  knows  sufficient 
to  induce  the  wish  one  day  to  wander  thither.  Nay,  shall 
we  not  together  realize  the  fulness  of  its  beauty,  even  as 
in  a  dream;  and,  forgetful  of  present  time  and  surround 
ing  circumstances,  enter  one  of  those  deep  winding  valleys 
for  which  Dauphin^  is  so  remarkable.  The  entrance  to 
that  we  now  select  may  be  poetically  compared  to  the  pas 
sage  leading  to  the  famous  grotto  of  Antiparos.  It  is  not, 
you  perceive,  such  a  vale  as  the  ridges  of  two  opposing 
mountains  usually  form ;  the  irregularity  of  its  course, 
together  with  its  narrowness  and  ruggedness,  are  sugges 
tive  of  a  former  convulsion.  To  gather  up  the  materials 
for  a  geological  lecture  is,  however,  not  our  purpose ; 
neither  do  we  intend  to  encourage  one  abstracted  thought. 
The  charms  of  solitude  are  various — press  we  on ;  we 
will  have  to  take  good  care  of  our  footing,  for  the  pathway 
is  narrow,  and,  as  poets  say,  choked.  We  are  treading 
the  topmost  branches  of  trees  that  trend  down  till  they 
meet  the  foaming  stream  that  has  its  course  below,  and 
there  they  bend  over  to  touch,  as  if  to  do  a  human  kind 
ness,  the  lowest  of  the  opposite  ascending  ranks.  Above 


16  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

us,  what  a  scene !  The  branches  of  bygone  centuries  still 
giving  out  their  sheltering  leaves,  still  becoming  animated 
•when  the  air  is  set  in  motion.  Those  patches  of  blue  sky, 
how  sweet  they  seem !  Listen  to  us,  ye  fairy  elves  !  that 
wander  up  and  down  these  woodland  aisles,  catching  the 
blossoms  as  they  fall,  or  waiting  patiently  for  the  seeds 
that  fall,  and  that  must  be  buried. .  Listen  to  us  !  we  also 
are  Arcadians.  We  have  chosen  the  silence  of  your  place 
for  leagues  of  plains  covered  with  spire-crowned  villages 
and  joyous  vintages;  and  share  in  your  thrill  of  exultation. 
0  that  we  too  could  live  in  these  airy  halls  ! 

The  scene  scarce  changes  as  we  advance — if  not  the 
same  trees,  the  same  verdure,  and  chinks,  and  rivulets, 
and  flowery  vegetation,  all  seeming  like  a  cleft  in  the 
heart  of  the  great  world.  And  now  we  come  upon  a  ruined 
cottage,  and  another,  and  another  ;  and  as  we  journey  on, 
lo  !  midway  from  the  foliage  below,  rises  the  ivy-covered 
tower  of  a  buried  church. 

Ah,  now  there  seems  a  stillness  in  the  valley,  another 
meaning  in  its  bounding  shadows.  The  sound  of  the 
stream  beneath,  in  its  rocky  bed,  is  like  a  voice  of  wail, 
and  the  moan  of  the  giant  trees  is  only  expressive  of  un 
utterable  agony.  Let  us  rest  awhile  beneath  yon  ruined 
porch — the  prey  of  that  slow  and  decrepit  workman  whom 
men  call  time.  We  will  there  too  recite  the  story  that 
hangs  over  this  deserted  spot.  It  relates  to  a  time  when 
conscience  had  no  permitted  liberty ;  when  a  government, 
generous  in  all  things  else,  would  not,  by  the  exertion  of 
any  influence,  incline  itself  to  the  amendment  of  the  stern 
decree  requiring  all  the  inhabitants  of  France  to  be  of  the 


THE  HUGUENOT.  17 

same  religious  creed,  or,  at  least,  so  well  to  comply  in 
practice  with  its  forms,  as  not  to  be  distinguishable  from 
the  true  worshippers.  Any  departure  from  the  general 
faith  was,  at  this  period,  visited  with  the  severest  penalty 
that  could  lie  between  bodily  chastisement  with  the  con 
fiscation  of  goods,  and  the  high  penalty  of  death.  Indeed, 
those  who  would  not  bow  to  its  requisitions  were  deemed 
the  worst  of  traitors,  sworn  enemies  to  political  unity. 

Divine  Truth,  who  is  never  far  from  man,  however 
oppressed  and  however  blinded,  and  who  ever  discovers 
herself  to  those  who  truly  and  earnestly  seek  her,  turned 
her  neglected  footsteps  towards  the  homes  of  these  pure- 
hearted  cottagers,  to  teach  them  that  the  time  had  come 
when  the  Father  would  be  worshipped,  neither  with  vain 
oblations  nor  splendid  ceremonials,  but  in  spirit  and  in 
truth. 

In  one  home  after  another,  by  some  quickening,  invisible 
influence,  the  blessed  word  was  taken  in ;  and  presently, 
around  a  new-formed  centre,  they  united  themselves  in 
sacred  fellowship  to  this  religion,  so  pure  and  separate 
from  whatever  man  himself  might  plead. 

A  few  rods  hence  we  discern  the  frame  of  a  cottage 
clasped  by  luxuriant  foliage,  and  beautified  with  flowers, 
like  some  hallowed  relic.  This  was  the  house  of  their 
minister — he  who,  with  them,  had  studied  in  simplicity  of 
spirit  the  holy  word,  and  with  them  had  taken  up  his  lot. 
That  cottage  was  the  place  where,  for  a  time,  the  villagers 
safely  met  together,  to  take  sweet  counsel  in  each  other's 
company,  and  seek  the  blessing  of  Heaven  on  their  homes 
and  hearts.  The  summer  that  witnessed  this  eventful 

2* 


18  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

change,  passed  noiselessly  and  happily  away.  Autumn 
came,  and  the  harvests  of  the  steeps  and  on  the  plains 
above  were  more  luscious  and  abundant  than  they  had 
ever  been  before.  And  still,  as  each  morning  flung  its 
light  along  the  vale,  they  bent  their  steps  towards  the 
place  of  prayer  and  rest,  anxious  to  enjoy  the  pure  com 
munion  of  a  perfect  faith.  This  revival  of  religious  hope 
affected  none  more  than  the  aged  pastor ;  his  faculties,  that 
had  been  becoming  gradually  dimmed,  now  appeared  to 
receive  a  fresh  and  permanent  invigoration — a  new  glad 
ness  lighted  up  his  countenance,  and  an  inexpressible  ten 
derness — such  as  might  have  distinguished  the  Saviour  of 
men,  the  chief  Shepherd  of  the  sheep — irradiated  his  eyes. 
Sitting  at  the  casement  of  that  lowly  cot,  so  picturesquely 
perched  beneath  the  shelter  of  a  high,  rocky  cliff,  he  would 
watch,  with  a  fatherly  interest,  the  villagers  as  they  came 
up  the  ascent,  one  by  one,  children,  and  maidens,  and  vigo 
rous  manhood.  Between  him  and  the  members  of  his 
flock  there  reigned  that  happy  confidence  which  disposes 
to  a  mutual  interest  and  love.  That  aged  pastor  had  long 
been  held  as  one  with  them ;  his  voice  was  their  guidance, 
his  approval  their  best  reward.  His  position  and  character, 
however,  were  by  no  means  extraordinary.  There  were 
many  such  pastors  then  in  France — men  who,  if,  like  Fene- 
lon,  under  the  influence  of  customs  which  tradition  had 
sanctified,  and  unsuspicious  of  the  spell  which  bound  them, 
laboured  with  a  zeal,  a  simplicity  and  sense  of  duty  not 
unworthy  of  the  apostolic  age ;  seeking  as  they  did  to 
draw,  though  by  many  hindrances,  those  who  as  yet  had 
not  been  numbered  in  the  Christian  fold.  All  memory  of 


THE  HUGUENOT.  19 

these  may  have  disappeared ;  yet  this  is  no  cause  for  with 
holding  from  them  this  passing  tribute  to  their  piety  and 
zeal;  from  acknowledging  that  the 

"  Labours  of  the  just 


Smell  sweet  and  blossom  in  the  dust." 

As  the  valley  was  being  bereft  of  its  last  varied  verdure, 
and  the  stream  below  became  lessened  and  more  confined, 
the  villagers  felt  creeping  over  them  a  saddening  spirit, 
premonitory  of  more  than  autumnal  decay,  or  of  wintry 
quietness.  It  was  the  sadness  which  comes  over  those 
who  are  leaving  the  solitudes  of  their  youth ;  such  a  sadness 
as  when  the  heart-strings  are 

• 

"  Left  low  trailing," 

and  can  clasp  nothing  earthly  for  a  sure  dependance.  To 
the  calm  serenity  of  countenance  that  distinguished  them 
as  they  gathered  in  their  pastor's  home,  was  added  an 
anxious  and  grave  expression,  indicative  of  some  exterior 
apprehension.  It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  their  with 
drawal  from  the  communion  of  a  church  that  claimed  for 
itself  universal  dominion,  and  knew  not  even  the  name,  or 
suspected  the  possibility  of  exercising  religious  toleration 
with  any  advantage  to  itself,  would  calmly  view  its  solemn 
rites  and  splendid  ceremonials  thus  supplanted.  The  very 
rusticity  of  the  Huguenots — for  so  they  were  called — was 
one  of  the  strongest  arguments  for  their  immediate  expo 
sure,  and,  if  need  were,  their  condign  punishment.  It 
could  not  be  brooked  that  men  without  any  learning,  with 
out  any  pretension  to  conversance  with  ecclesiastical  his- 


20  TKUTH  AND  FANCY. 

tory,  should  thus  impeach  the  past  traditions  and  present 
witness  of  a  church  that,  together  with  its  gorgeous  and 
priestly  hierarchy,  with  emperors  as  its  subjects,  and 
nations  as  its  communicants,  could  point  to  the  gorgeous 
cathedral  of  the  middle  ages,  in  testimony  of  that  devotion 
in  which  tens  of  thousands,  now  in  their  graves,  had 
esteemed  its  worship. 

Tidings  of  the  heretical  disposition  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  valley  were  not  long  in  travelling  over  the  distance  of 
half  a  league,  and  inciting  the  inquiry  of  the  curd  who 
presided  over  the  parish  of  Beauvais.  The  individual  who 
conveyed  these  tidings  was  none  other  than  Kichelieu,  the 
old  sexton  of  that  older  church,  and  who,  finding  his  occu 
pation  quite  gone,  had,  for  several  months,  experienced 
considerable  uneasiness.  This  man  was  a  strange  com 
pound  of  innocence  and  superstition ;  kind-hearted  in 
disposition,  but  wilful  in  his  prejudices;  though  obser 
vant  of  all  that  was  transpiring  in  the  valley,  he  had 
endeavoured  as  long  as  he  could  to  keep  silent.  Sabbath 
after  Sabbath  he  rang  out  the  brazen  chimes  in  the  tower ; 
carefully  as  ever  was  the  high  altar  set,  and  the  whole  mate 
rial  paraphernalia  dusted :  it  was  not  his  fault  truly  that 
none  came  in. 

The  change  of  sentiment  had  been  as  general  as  it  was 
thorough,  and  the  old  sexton,  too  deaf  to  hear,  and  too 
dull  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  the  change,  would  walk 
up  antl  down  the  aisles  of  the  sacred  edifice,  muttering  to 
himself,  and  taking  care  to  look  as  gloomy  as  possible. 
He  it  was,  who,  wearied  of  this  state  of  things,  and  perhaps 
alarmed  at  the  thought  of  suspicion  attaching  to  himself 


THE  HUGUENOT.  21 

as  being  concerned  in  the  dismemberment,  thought  it  high 
time  to  give  notice  to  the  reverend  curd,  who  had  oversight 
of  the  adjoining  parish.  It  was  one  bright  morning  that 
he  set  out  on  the  unwelcome  mission  ;  his  way  led  over  a 
district  of  country  almost  uninhabited — a  vast  manorial 
possession  of  the  house  of  D'Angouleine.  The  sexton 
would  immediately  have  proceeded  to  the  mansion — a  high 
and  irregular  Gothic  building,  that  rose  in  gloom  and 
beauty  from  a  deep  and  narrow  strip  of  woodland — but 
that  he  preferred  consulting  the  temperate  judgment  of  a 
clerical  adviser,  to  that  of  a  man  whose  passions  were 
capable  of  being  infuriated,  on  occasions  when  his  own 
interest,  reputation,  and  honour  were  concerned,  even  to 
madness.  On  and  on,  therefore,  he  went,  feeling  himself 
to  be  the  messenger  of  evil  tidings,  and  sadly  grieving 
that  there  was  no  one  else  on  whom  to  lay  the  burden. 

At  this  period,  when  a  knowledge  of  letters  was  confined 
to  few,  and  a  king's  post  was  almost  the  only  kind  of  post 
known,  the  most  complete  isolation  was  wont  to  charac 
terize  even  neighbouring  villages ;  through  want  of  a 
sufficient  intercommunication,  interests  the  most  diverse 
would  grow  up  side  by  side,  creating  sometimes  a  compla 
cent  pride,  more  often  a  mutual  jealousy  and  permanent 
ill-will. 

Almost  instinctively  finding  out  the  parsonage,  the  sex 
ton  opened  its  little  wicker-gate,  and,  walking  up  its 
gravelled  pathway,  espied  the  curd  sitting  with  a  Latin 
tome  upon  his  knee,  in  a  bower  of  myrtle  trees.  The 
tramp  of  a  pair  of  wooden-soled  shoes,  that  hung  heavily 
at  the  feet  of  the  worthy  sexton,  immediately  drew  the 


22  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

attention  of  the  cure",  who,  rising  up,  welcomed  the  old 
man  in  with  a  sort  of  familiar  glance. 

"And  what  may  be  the  matter,  Richelieu?"  said  the 
cure". 

"Little,  little,"  answered  the  old  sexton,  willing  to 
smooth  the  way  to  a  full  and  absolute  confession ;  "  but 
times  in  the  valley  are  not  as  they  have  been — a  curse 
seems  to  hang  over  it.  The  bell  tolls,  but,  after  it  ceases 
to  sound,  all  again  is  very  silent — very  silent !  I  can 
scarce  tell  what  may  be  the  matter ;  but  ban  there  is ;  and 
though  every  secular  day  is  as  heretofore,  the  Sabbath  and 
holy  days  are  quite  neglected."  The  sexton  uttered  these 
words  with  unusual  energy,  and  his  eyes  wore  the  appear 
ance  of  great  earnestness. 

"You  do  not  take  me  by  surprise,"  remarked  the  cure*; 
"  I  have  had  already  some  inklings  of  the  matter,  and 
even  a  request  has  been  made  to  the  higher  ecclesiastical 
authorities  to  institute  an  inquiry  into  the  subject.  I  had 
not  supposed,  however,  that  more  than  a  few  had  become 
affected  by  the  new  doctrines.  Heresy  is  a  contagious 
disease,  however.  Well,  our  purpose  for  the  present  is  to 
keep  quiet,  to  give  no  warning  of  the  intended  movement. 
You  have  done  your  duty,  and  may  now  return." 

The  old  man,  to  tell  the  truth,  was  very  much  surprised 
at  these  words,  and  would  gladly  have  entered  into  some 
explanation,  some  extenuating  circumstance  which  might, 
in  some  measure,  shield  the  villagers ;  but  observing  in  the 
curd  a  dislike  to  the  entire  subject,  and  an  evident  unwil 
lingness  further  to  recur  to  it,  he  hobbled  back  as  he  had 
come  to  his  old  governmental  post,  valued  at  the  good  and 


THE  HUGUENOT.  23 

satisfactory,  though  very  small  sum  of  three  hundred 
francs  a  year.  Ah !  how  the  deceitfulness  of  riches,  or 
even  of  a  sure  competency,  "will  at  times  choke  the  word. 
The  church  and  state  that  gave  to  the  worthy  sexton  food 
to  eat  and  raiment  to  put  on,  must  needs  be  very  good ; 
it  never  entered  his  heart  even  to  question  this,  and  those 
who  did  so  question  it  had  his  most  sincere  commiseration. 
Whether  the  secret  intelligence  that  the  old  man  brought 
back  with  him  was  not  in  its  turn  anticipated,  is  not  cer 
tain.  His  own  peering  eyes  observed  on  the  morrow  the 
most  unmistakeable  sign  of  alarm,  and,  with  all  his  loyal 
feelings  excited,  he  more  than  suspected  the  concertment  of 
general  measures  of  resistance.  But  it  was  none  of  his 
business  to  observe  this ;  his  yesterday's  journey  would 
free  him  from  all  harm,  and  others  might  manage  the 
State  Commissioners  as  they  were  best  able. 


24  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 


CHAPTER   II. 

"Here  is  peace,  said  I, 
In  man's  abode,  in  earth,  in  air,  and  sky ; 
But  the  heart  shrinketh  from  his  death-like  rest. 

***** 
Something  stirred." 

WORDSWORTH. 

THE  unusual  stillness  of  the  succeeding  morning  was  that 
which,  as  we  have  noted,  first  startled  the  sexton.     Look 
ing  up  along  the  steeps,  he  saw  no  being  astir ;  the  sun 
rose  high,  but  the  ripe  grapes  still  hung  on  the  vines,  and 
the  song  of  the  birds  was  free  and  shrill.     We  have  told 
how  quickly  and  for  what  reason  the  good  sexton  composed 
himself;   had   he   taken  any  trouble,  or,  indeed,  had  he 
risen  any  earlier,  he  might  have  traced  the  families,  for 
whose  spiritual  welfare  he  had  so  lately  concerned  himself, 
to  the  house  of  their  minister,  to  that  same  large  and  sha 
dowy  room,  which,  adorned  with  rustic  simplicity,  seemed 
the   fit  studio  for  one  who  had   devoted   himself  to  the 
service  of  Heaven.     Here  were  they  gathered  together; 
the  Bible  lay  closed ;  and  earnest  consultation  was  being 
held  as  to  the  measures  of  safety  requisite  to  be  taken  in 
the  emergency  their  proceedings  had  brought  about.    Many 
difficulties  had  to  be  considered,  many  objections  overcome. 
Clouds  and  darkness  emphatically  lay  round  about  them, 
and  there  was  evident  need  of  consummate  judgment  as 
well  as  of  the  exercise  of  firm  and  determined  bravery. 


THE  HUGUENOT.  25 

The  Huguenotic  mothers  watched  earnestly  the  counte 
nances  of  their  husbands,  now  engaged  in  strong  debate, 
reading  thus  all  they  had  to  hope,  and  all  to  fear.  A 
mighty  stake  was  already  ventured.  In  accepting  the  faith 
once  delivered  to  the  saints,  the  Huguenots  had  accepted 
all  its  perils.  Whilst  thus  conferring,  a  tap  was  heard  at 
the  door.  Instant  stillness  ensued.  The  tap  was  steadily 
repeated  at  proper  intervals  of  time,  and  all  doubt  being 
removed,  the  door  was  opened.  There  entered  a  rustic  pea 
sant  girl,  whose  beautifully  defined  features,  clear  blue  eyes, 
and  sweet  expression,  were  calculated  to  inspire  an  immea 
surable  love.  She  was  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  poorest 
of  the  villagers,  but  by  her  goodness  had  so  won  the  con 
fidence  of  the  aged  pastor  that  he  feared  not  to  commit  to 
her  many  missions  of  importance,  as  well  as  many  visits  of 
consolation,  which  his  duties  or  his  infirmities  prevented 
him  from  making.  She  had  been  received  at  the  chateau 
as  the  especial  companion  of  the  Duke  D'Angouleine's 
two  accomplished  daughters.  She  had  imparted  to  them  a 
portion  of  her  guileless  spirit  and  native  grace ;  they  had 
given  to  her  that  refinement  which,  added  to  nature's 
charms,  is  ever  so  engaging.  So  remote  indeed  was  that 
feudal  habitation  from  any  great  city,  and  so  complete  its 
loneliness,  that  to  one  far  less  amiable  than  this  young  pea 
sant  girl,  its  doors  might  have  gladly  been  opened.  The 
education  of  Annie — that  was  the  name  she  went  by — had 
been  conducted  under  the  immediate  supervision  of  the 
pastor,  a  circumstance  which  had  placed  her  far  in  advance 
of  many  gifted  with  superior  advantages,  talents,  and  am 
bition.  Her  charms  were  of  that  spiritual  order  which  the 


26  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

cultivated  mind  and  well-directed  heart  only  can  properly 
appreciate.  If  not  made  for  seclusion,  she  nevertheless 
rejoiced  in  pursuing  unobtrusively  her  way;  neither  look 
ing  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left,  so  that  she  might  do 
good  while  each  day  lasted,  and  commend  herself  tran 
quilly  to  God,  as  she  lay  down  to  each  night's  brief,  transi 
tory  rest.  The  expression  of  her  face  had  a  pure  and 
almost  seraphic  sweetness,  such  as  we  are  accustomed  to  see 
in  likenesses  of  the  Madonna.  The  dimpling  play  of  her 
young  and  lovely  features  was  sometimes  lighted  up  with  a 
sweet  surprise,  though  seldom  sparkling  with  the  keenness 
of  unrestrained  joy.  The  childlike,  yet  not  undignified, 
grace  of  her  form,  was  moreover  in  perfect  keeping  with  the 
beauty  of  her  countenance. 

No  sooner  had  Annie  entered  the  crowded  room  than 
she  glided  to  the  table  and  received  from  the  pastor  a  small 
note  with  the  whispered  request  to  deliver  it  to  her  friend 
at  the  chateau.  She  took  the  note,  gently  kissed  the  ex 
tended  hand,  and  without  word  or  visible  sign  to  any  one 
present,  immediately  retired.  The  conference  thus  slightly 
interrupted  was  now  continued  with  renewed  earnestness. 
Immediate  action  of  whatever  kind  had  been  resolved  on ; 
and  though  the  various  propositions  suggested  were  indi 
cative  of  various  degrees  of  judgment,  each  proposition 
proved  conclusively  the  good  faith  of  its  author,  and  a  readi 
ness  to  make  any  sacrifice  required  for  the  adoption  of  the 
one  which  should  be  finally  approved. 

The  civil  court  of  France  being  at  this  time  bound  up 
with  the  ecclesiastical,  it  was  necessary  to  anticipate  the 
movement  of  political  policy  on  this  matter,  as  well  as  the 


THE  HUGUENOT.  27 

sure  stroke  that  would  reach  them  on  being  excommuni 
cated  from  the  church.  From  neither  could  they  hope  for 
any  favour,  and  from  neither  was  there  any  appeal.  No 
conditions  of  peace  would  be  allowed,  except  that  of  the 
unconditional  surrender  of  private  judgment  to  arbitrary 
canons.  They  were  thus  compelled  by  every  necessity  to 
decide  without  delay. 

Any  painter  anxious  to  exhibit  the  Huguenots  in  their 
spirit  and  in  their  faith  at  that  moment  of  time  when  their 
condition  had  assumed  the  highest  point  of  interest,  might 
by  the  transcript  of  those  thus  gathered  in  the  pastor's 
room,  have  realized  his  object.  Old  and  young — those 
whose  many  wrinkles  told  of  the  heavy  burden  of  their 
day,  and  those  whom  life  had  not  yet  shaded  with  sorrow 
or  care — children  and  maidens,  were  together  here,  but 
the  thrill  that  went  through  all  when  the  final  verdict  was 
given  must  ever  lie  beyond  the  range  of  human  pen.  Even 
the  babe  on  its  mother's  bosom  seemed  to  share  the  emo 
tion  it  occasioned,  and  every  face  became  pallid  with  na 
tural  grief.  Too  weak  to  resist  the  force  that  would  be 
opposed  to  them,  there  appeared  only  one  mode  of  deliver 
ance,  that  of  instantaneous  flight. 

"  Perchance,"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  their  pastor, 
whilst  every  eye  shone  with  tears  and  the  bravest  hearts 
beat  against  their  prison  walls, — "  Perchance,  after  a  few 
years  of  exile,  a  kind  Providence  may  permit  us  to  return. 
Only  with  the  present  have  we  to  do.  The  advice  given 
to  the  dwellers  in  Judea  is  now  given  to  us — '  Flee  ye  to 
the  mountains.' ' 

"  There  nature  will  be  on  our  side,"  interrupted  an  old 


28  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

peasant  who  sat  near;  "the  fastnesses  of  the  Alps  will 
hold  out  against  all  the  battalions  of  France." 

Inspired  by  this  sudden  appeal  to  the  most  animated  of 
all  natural  feelings,  and  this  outspoken  dependence  on  a 
powerful  ally,  the  whole  assembly  commenced  chanting  the 
hymn: 

Though  drearily,  and  wearily,  and  mournfully,  and  slow, 
Towards  a  far  off  spot  our  exiled  footsteps  go  ; 
Across  that  track  of  dismal  length  our  hearts  shall  never  roam, 
But  still  evade  oppression's  strength,  and  lingering  dwell  at  home. 
Yes !  nobly  free  our  hearts  shall  be,  nor  share  the  outward  chain, 
The  soul  preserves  its  liberty,  though  crushed  and  bowed  with  pain. 
We  trust  '"          ••-",  yet  unknown,  with  calm,  courageous  breast, 
For  right         Heaven  still  makes  His  own  the  cause  of  the  oppressed. 


THE  HUGUENOT.  29 


CHAPTER   III. 

"  And  not  a  word  by  her  was  spoken ; 
For  many  a  listener's  ear  wag  by, 
But  surely  was  the  silence  broken, 
For  eye  could  well  interpret  eye." 

THE  old  chateau  of  Dauphins'  had  just  been  burnished 
by  the  morning  sun  that  gilded  it  with  a  glory  that  must 
surely  in  the  olden  time  have  delighted  its  first  inhabi- 
ters  (and  even  now,  as  the  new  glory  plated  the  battle 
ments,  and  was  flung  back  from  the  shining  ^~  Cements,  it 
served  to  grace  its  deep  retired  and  soliu  jnajesty), 
when  Annie  Lorraine  rose  from  her  little  cot  and  glided 
noiselessly  to  the  apartment  of  Alicia  D'Angouleine,  the 
youngest  daughter  of  the  Duke  D'AngouleJne.  In  her 
trembling  fingers,  white  as  the  lily,  was  the  note  she  had 
undertaken  to  deliver,  but  which  she  had  deferred  from  the 
previous  night  to  a  more  convenient  season.  That  moment 
had  arrived ;  and  now  her  hand  was  laid  upon  the  door, 
and  she  passed  gently  in.  Had  Alicia  been  awake,  she 
might  have  deemed  herself  visited  by  some  bright  angel. 
The  curtain  of  the  narrow  Gothic  window  flung  its  crim 
son  beams  upon  her,  and  as  she  moved  towards  the  bed,  en 
compassed  her  with  a  rosy  halo. 

"Alicia,  wake !  I  have  a  message  for  thee.  It  is  in  this 
note.  Let  me  draw  back  the  curtains  that  you  may  read 
it." 

Alicia  was  in  the  light  slumber  such  as  a  gentle  and 

3* 


30  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

loved  voice  is  sure  to  waken.  She  looked  trustfully  up 
and  faintly  smiled.  Annie,  bending  low,  kissed  the  red  lips 
of  the  late  beautiful  sleeper,  -who  forthwith  raised  herself, 
took  the  note,  and  opened  out  its  unsealed  folds. 

Annie  turned  her  head  aside  and  waited  patiently  for  a 
word  from  her  companion,  "whose  delicate  sensibility  had 
imparted  to  a  most  gentle  character  an  unreservedness  as 
charming  as  it  was  sincere. 

"Alas!  alas!"  was  her  broken  exclamation,  as  she  sank 
back  on  the  cushioned  pillows,  the  lightness  and  ampleness 
of  which  afforded  some  resistance.  "  My  dear  home  to  be 
left !  my  name  to  be  forgotten  !  Can  it — must  it  be  thus  ? 
0  what  would  support  us  in  these  trials,  if  we  might  not 
flee  to  our  blessed  Saviour?" 

"Annie  could  not  be  a  witness  to  her  friend's  grief,  and 
left  the  room.  Alicia  rose,  and  dressed,  and  opened  the 
eastern  window  to  which  the  warm  waves  of  morning  air 
were  flowing.  She  there  paused  a  moment ;  and  as  though 
suddenly  strengthened  and  calmed  by  the  intervention  of 
some  holy  thought,  she  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  full  of  quiet 
ness  and  peace,  as  she  looked  towards  the  burning  beams 
that  played  amidst  the  tendrils  of  the  vine  that  encased 
the  window, — "Beautiful  day!  your  light  is  to  me  like  the 
smile  of  Heaven.  How  I  would  love  to  play  amidst  your 
brightness,  so  peaceful  and  serene.  May  God  give  me  a 
willing  heart  to  obey  his  summons." 

As  Alicia  extended  her  gaze  to  the  wide  landscape,  now 
exhibiting  a  thousand  pastoral  beauties,  she  felt  a  sensa 
tion  of  pleasure  thrill  through  her  frame  for  which  she 
could  hardly  account.  It  was  the  aid  given  by  Heaven  in 


THE  HUGUENOT.  31 

that  trying  hour,  preventing  her  from  realizing  that  soon 
the  beautiful  scene  would  be  no  more  than  a  loved  memory 
— that  the  place  that  now  knew  her  should  know  her  no 
more  for  ever.  To  a  young  heart  like  her  own,  the  full 
grief  of  banishment  was  almost  incomprehensible.  Un 
like  those  who  at  the  first  shock  of  adversity,  know  all, 
feel  all,  she  was  one  who  from  the  yearnings  of  her  own 
spirit,  would  ever  seek  to  gather  up,  day  by  day,  new 
tokens  of  love  from  those  around  her.  Even  now,  while 
home  was  not  yet  left,  the  heavenly  promises  that  could 
sustain  her  must  have  been  very  near — her  guardian  and 
invisible  angel  doubtless  sheltering  her  with  his  bright 
pinions.  This  much  she  was  conscious  of,  that  there  was 
less  suffering  involved  in  an  immediate  departure  with  the 
Huguenots,  than  in  lingering  behind  under  the  searching 
evidence  of  bereft  affection.  She  could  not  bear  to  hear 
the  voices  that  had  breathed  so  kindly  speak  in  harsh  and 
unforgiving  tones — the  tones  which  follow  on  the  wrong 
that  time  takes  not  away.  Her  thoughts  magnified  her 
present  fears,  while  her  hopes — those  swiftest  of  all  mes 
sengers,  and  whose  purpose  is  to  fulfil  the  heart's  behests — 
brought  within  a  very  short  compass  the  period  of  her 
exile.  Yes,  she  would  return  on  a  happier  day.  Perhaps 
when  her  present  attachment  to  the  Huguenotic  faith 
should  be  praised,  or  even,  if  still  held  to  have  erred,  she 
might  be  forgiven.  Like  a  Peri  on  the  verge  of  Para 
dise,  she  thought  she  heard  pronounced  the  certainty  of  a 
quick  return.  Ah !  most  lovely  girl,  beyond  thy  father's 
home  the  world  is  un winsome  and  its  glances  are  cold.  No 
trees  are  like  those  thou  viewest — no  sportful  shadows  half 


32   -  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

so  beautiful.  There  is  more  in  the  small  compass  of  thy 
present  chamber  than  the  eye  can  see;  attachments  of 
which  thou  scarce  dreamest  to  exist  will  break,  and  oh, 
how  hardly  will  they  be  broken! 

The  meditations  of  Alicia  were  interrupted  by  the 
approach  of  her  sister  Blanche,  who  bade  her  in  a  voice 
of  more  than  usual  joyousness  descend  into  the  breakfast- 
room.  Alicia  instantly  turned,  and  impressing  a  sweet 
kiss  on  her  sister's  proffered  lips,  did  as  she  was  bidden. 
When  about  crossing  the  great  hall,  the  two  sisters  encoun 
tered  Annie,  whom  they  mutually  greeted.  The  Duke  had 
preceded  them,  and  at  the  time  of  their  entrance  was  look 
ing  out  on  the  large  lawn  and  wood  of  oaks  spreading  far 
into  the  distance.  To  the  beauty  of  such  a  scene  facing  the 
chateau,  was  added  the  capacity  for  its  enjoyment.  In  the 
possession  of  a  highly  cultured  taste,  the  family  of  the 
Duke,  with  himself,  were  more  than  ordinarily  privileged. 
It  was  this  that  made  that  remote  abode  so  delightful,  and 
amply  compensated  for  many  of  those  luxuries  and  com 
forts  which  were  pouring  at  this  period  into  France  from 
the  transalpine  regions.  This  increase  of  refinement  had 
the  effect  of  spurring  those  who  most  prided  themselves 
in  the  manly  vigour  of  a  bygone  age,  to  renew  its  wild  and 
lusty  sports ;  and  many  were  the  wild  hunts  which  the 
nobility,  banding  together  according  to  the  respective  pro 
vinces  in  which  their  domains  were  situated,  would  enter 
on,  and  this  with  a  zeal  as  warm  as  when  the  necessity  of 
warding  off  danger  compelled  men  to  leave  their  quiet 
homes,  and  engage  in  the  arduous  chase.  Except  on  such 
occasions  —  occasions  of  infinite  pleasure,  and  always 


THE  HUGUENOT.  33 

abounding  with  merriment — the  chateau  to  any  passing 
stranger  would  have  appeared  melancholy  and  lonely.  The 
valley  of  the  Huguenots  was  completely  out  of  sight,  and 
over  the  wide  landscape,  to  the  very  verge  of  the  horizon, 
there  appeared  nothing  to  break  the  stillness,  except  the 
flutter  of  the  eagle  in  its  swoop,  the  bleating  of  flocks,  or 
the  falls  of  the  winding  stream, — a  landscape,  that  with 
its  golden  and  sombre  hues,  its  sweet  variety  of  aspect, 
might  gladly  have  employed  the  genius  of  Poussin  in  his 
later  years;  for  it  had  ruins  too  and  ivied  towers,  the 
remnants  of  military  structures  and  bridges,  over  which 
occasionally  some  solitary  wayfarer  only,  or  a  party  of 
gay  cavaliers,  or  some  country  team  laden  with  country 
produce,  or  sonqp  officious  bearer  of  despatches  would  occa 
sionally  pass. 

Blanche  immediately  on  entering  the  breakfast-room, 
half  buried  herself  in  the  velvet  cushions  of  an  antique 
chair,  and  in  it  lay  at  rest  with  her  eyes  closed,  as  though 
absorbed  in  some  bright  dream.  The  Duke  leaned  on  the 
high  Gothic  window-sill,  looking  on  the  prospect  with  an 
absent  but  serious  air. 

As  soon  as  Alicia  had  paid  her  respects  to  her  father, 
she  glided  out  of  the  room  to  converse  with  Annie.  She 
had  scarcely  disappeared,  when  the  Duke,  turning  to 
Blanche,  said  abruptly, — 

"  What  change  is  this  that  has  come  over  your  sister 
lately?" 

"  I  know  not,  papa,"  was  the  disturbed  reply  of  Blanche 
to  a  question,  the  solution  of  which  was  equally  interest 
ing  to  herself.  "  I  have  noticed  of  late  in  Alicia  many 


84  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

strange  deviations  from  her  accustomed  habits.  Tell  me, 
has  it  not  occurred  to  you,  papa,  that  her  relaxed  interest 
in  her  daily  duties,  together  with  her  repeated  visits  to 
the  valley,  originate  in  a  cause  not  purely  accidental  ?  For 
myself,  my  suspicions  are  attracted  towards  Annie,  who, 
though  she  never  refers  to  the  subject,  is,  I  am  persuaded, 
imbued  with  Huguenotic  fancies ;  I  fear,  that  she  is  endea 
vouring  to  shake  the  faith  of  Alicia, — to  weaken  her  confi 
dence  in  the  established  church.  If  so,  she  should  have 
no  further  opportunity  of  impressing  her  heretical  prin 
ciples  on  the  unsuspecting  mind  of  my  lovely  sister." 

The  Duke  had  no  opportunity  of  immediate  reply,  for  the 
door  at  that  moment  opened,  and  Alicia  together  with  Annie 
entered.  '  A  glance  of  pride  lighted  up  the  father's  features 
as  his  eyes  rested  on  his  beautiful  child.  Of  the  daughters 
of  France  there  might  be  some  of  more  pretensions,  but 
none  of  more  serene  and  perfect  beauty  than  existed  in  the 
form  and  countenance  of  Alicia.  So  delicate  was  the  order 
of  her  loveliness,  so  pure  and  soft  her  complexion,  that 
her  appearance  gave  almost  certain  token  of  fragile  health. 
Her  eyes,  which  were  of  a  deep  blue,  had  a  thoughtful  and 
serene  expression,  while  her  forehead  was  of  the  finest 
Grecian  form.  The  tone  of  her  mind  resembled  her  fea 
tures  ;  it  was  a  mind  well  balanced,  thoughtful,  and  ele 
vated.  As  one  could  not  look  upon  the  loveliness  of  her 
face  and  turn  away  without  regret,  so  those  able  to  appre 
ciate  her  beauty  of  intellect  could  not  withdraw  from  its  clear 
and  rich  fountains  without  feeling  a  desire  to  linger  there 
perpetually,  and  enjoy  their  freshness.  And  what  gave 
an  additional  charm  to  Alicia,  was  the  delight  she  had  in 


THE  HUGUENOT.  35 

applying  her  superiority  of  mind  to  the  improvement  of 
those  with  whom  she  had  partially  connected  herself;  in 
their  faith  -wholly.  She  lived  but  to  do  good ;  and  religion 
in  directing  all  her  acts  to  works  of  benevolence  had  added 
to  her  native  charms,  charms  more  ennobling. 

Alicia  quickly  perceived  by  the  sudden  silence  her  en 
trance  had  occasioned,  and  the  changed  looks  of  Blanche, 
that  she  had  been  the  subject  of  conversation.  Guided  by 
intuitive  discretion,  she  gently  approached  her  father,  and 
placing  a  hand  upon  his  arm,  she  fondly  kissed  his  brow. 
Her  look  of  affection  subdued  at  once  the  severity  of  his 
feelings,  for  he  instantly  checked  himself  in  what,  if  not 
thus  interrupted,  might  have  terminated  in  a  stern  reproof, 
and  caressed  her  with  more  than  ordinary  affection. 

Alicia  smiled,  but  0  how  sadly !  Soon  the  last  kiss 
would  be  given;  soon  the  loved  form  of  her  father  would 
fade  away — fade  away  as  the  dead  fade,  unheard  and 
unseen. 

This  was  the  day  on  which  the  Duke  anticipated  the  ar 
rival  of  his  son  from  Paris,  together  with  a  few  friends,  the 
proprietors  of  not  far  distant  estates.  The  Chamber  of 
Peers,  to  which  by  imperial  prerogative,  his  son  had  been 
appointed — contrary  to  usual  custom  if  not  to  former  pre 
cedents,  had  just  closed  a  most  important  and  exciting  ses 
sion.  Unfurnished  as  the  Duke  was  with  any  daily  journal 
or  monthly  bulletin  of  parliamentary  proceedings — the  gift 
of  later  times — he  had  no  choice  but  to  wait  patiently  for 
his  son's  return  in  order  to  gather  information  on  those 
points  of  decision  which  more  or  less  were  likely  to  affect 


36  TKUTH  AND  FANCY. 

his  interests.     It  is  unnecessary  to  state  here  the  cause  of 
his  own  absence  from  the  capital. 

The  sun,  though  high  in  heaven,  had  not  yet  had  time  to 
consume  the  dew  of  night,  when  the  Duke  D'Angouleine, 
with  Blanche  and  Alicia,  who,  with  himself,  were  gaily 
mounted,  he  on  a  fleet  and  fiery  courser,  they  on  discreet 
and  nimble  palfreys,  issued  by  the  eastern  gate  of  the  cha 
teau.  After  entering  the  basin  of  verdure  that  lay  below, 
girded  by  continuous  ranges  of  wide-set  trees,  they  pursued 
the  direction  in  which  the  visiters  would  certainly  be  met. 
Early  as  they  were,  they  were  yet  too  late  not  to  meet 
many  a  woodman  at  his  solitary  work,  stripping  branches 
bare,  or  making  the  earth  to  ring  with  strong  and  sturdy 
blows. 

"  They  come !  they  come  !"  was  the  joyful  expression  of 
Blanche,  as  she  detected,  by  her  nice  sense  of  sound,  the 
approach  of  steeds.  Our  party  immediately  increased  their 
pace,  and  in  a  few  moments,  through  the  opening  of  the 
trees,  other  forms  were  visible.  It  was  evident  that  both 
parties  were  now  putting  their  steeds'  mettle  to  the  test. 
The  long  expected  ones  were  approaching.  They  were 
meeting,  and  they  met. 

The  son  of  the  Duke,  with  his  fine  athletic  form  and  manly 
bearing,  was  the  exact  prototype,  in  these  respects,  of  his 
father.  Yet  it  was  easy  for  the  most  casual  glance  to  dis 
cover,  that  the  features  of  the  son  were  less  prominent  and 
less  severe.  It  was  plain,  too,  that  care,  either  of  family 
interests,  or  of  the  nation,  had  had  little  power  to  gloom 
the  heyday  of  a  still  joyous  youth.  As  with  dexterous  skill 


THE  HUGUENOT.  37 

he  obtained,  without  dismounting,  and  while  almost  in  full 
gallop,  the  salute  of  a  kiss  from  each  of  the  fair  sisters,  his 
cheeks  glowed  with  pride,  and  his  elegant  form,  as  he  righted 
in  the  saddle,  could  not  but  excite  admiration. 

Whilst  one  of  Victor's  companions,  after  making  a  pro 
found  obeisance,  closed  in  with  the  Duke,  the  other  seemed 
disposed  to  renew  the  feat  we  have  recorded  of  the  brother, 
and  in  a  trice  his  lips  pressed  those  of  Alicia,  who,  in 
the  excitement  of  the  meeting,  had  not  yet  found  words  to 
speak.  It  was  the  Count  Louis.  But  there  is  a  fulness  of 
joy  above  the  expression  of  words.  The  looks  of  Alicia  told 
all ;  and  her  lover,  reining  up  by  her  side,  breathed  fonder 
words  than  may  here  be  written.  Incessantly  the  gay 
voice  of  Blanche  was  heard  from  where  she  was  rallying  her 
brother  on  some  deficiency  of  promise,  or  trying  the  strength 
of  his  memory  or  the  exactness  of  his  knowledge  on  some 
affair  in  which  she  seemed  more  than  slightly  interested. 
But  the  two  lovers,  Alicia  and  the  Count,  heeded  neither 
voice  nor  sound ;  absorbed  in  their  own  joyous  conversings, 
which,  so  far  from  being  stayed  by  further  emotion,  seemed 
now  to  flow  in  a  deeper  and  more  tranquil  channel. 

At  a  signal  from  the  Duke,  the  journey  so  near  com 
pletion,  was  continued:  but  there  was  no  more  haste. 
Gently  they  went  on,  as  those  who  had  no  more  to  seek ; 
nor  as  they  passed  beneath  the  shadows  of  the  chateau  did 
any  sombre  thought  appear  to  come  upon  them.  A  few 
embrowned  peasants,  who,  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
party,  were  gathered  up  to  see  the  glad  array,  after  many 
expressions  of  joy,  spoke  to  each  other  of  the  brilliant  con- 

4 


38  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

trast  of  colour  afforded  by  the  rich  dresses  of  the  strangers 
against  the  dark,  shaded  walls  of  the  chateau. 

Strange  is  it,  that  in  every  country  excepting  France, 
Spain,  and  Italy,  the  magic  of  colour  should  almost  be  unob 
served  ;  that  whilst  the  humblest  peasant  of  the  Provencal 
provinces  can  find  a  pleasure  in  light  and  shade,  in  the  hues 
of  heaven  and  the  hues  of  earth,  we  ask  for  more,  even  for 
special  artistic  applications,  before  we  will  put  on  a  smile ; 
refusing  in  this,  though  in  nothing  else,  to  be  guided  by 
the  senses. 

The  entrance  of  the  company  into  the  chateau,  was  by 
no  means  the  signal  for  that  intense  activity  which  so  many 
writers  have  delighted  to  describe  as  accompanying  every 
movement  of  their  heroes  and  their  heroines,  thus  throw 
ing  around  their  subject  an  interest  completely  adventi 
tious.  Preparations  for  the  reception  of  the  guests  had 
been  made  on  a  large  scale,  and  their  entrance  was  so  far 
from  discomposing  the  establishment,  as  to  seem  but  as  the 
fitting  complement  to  the  entertainment  it  afforded. 

Breakfast  again  was  spread,  and  the  ease  and  grace  with 
which  Blanche  and  Alicia  waited  on  the  noble  guests,  was 
certainly  calculated  to  impress  them  with  the  goodness  of 
heart  that  dictated  each  slight  attention,  and  the  beauty 
which  adorned  and  enhanced  its  value.  It  was  plain  to  see 
that  the  visiters  promised  themselves  unlimited  pleasure : 
indeed,  before  they  rose  from  table,  plans  were  formed 
both  for  the  present  and  for  ensuing  days.  Blanche,  appa 
rently,  had  the  most  inventive,  perhaps  we  should  say 
directive,  genius.  She  it  was  who  undertook  to  allot  the 


THE  HUGUENOT.  39 

task  of  each  successive  hour ;  and  truly,  if  all  she  promised, 
and  she  promised  nothing  that  was  not  completely  practi 
cable,  was  to  be  fulfilled,  the  guests  might  well  be  pardoned 
for  evincing  their  delight.  The  inhabitants  of  France  have 
always  been  distinguished  by  the  warmth  of  their  imagina 
tion  :  this  it  is  which  clothes  for  them  with  more  than  an 
earthly  light  every  object  on  which  they  set  their  hearts. 
These  emotions  may  be  evanescent,  but  are  not,  on  this 
account,  so  long  as  they  last,  less  real. 

"Well,  Victor,"  said  the  Duke,  breaking  into  some  gay 
conversation  that  his  son  was  holding  with  Blanche ;  "  what 
of  the  Bill*  in  relation  to  these  villagers,  and  those  affected 
by  the  like  heretical  complaint  ?  I  had  meant  that  my 
first  question  should  have  referred  to  it ;  for  certainly  our 
interest  in  it  is  not  to  be  slighted." 

"  The  Bill,  as  originally  formed,"  replied  Victor,  "re 
ceived  much  opposition.  I  verily  believe  that  the  tempe 
raments  of  men  change  so  soon  as  they  get  within  the  walls 
of  Paris.  All  there  is  so  gay,  so  mild  and  bland,  that 
kind,  nay  weak,  impulses  are  certain  to  pervert  the  good 
liest  judgment.  Is  it  not  so,  Louis  ?" 

*  The  following  were  the  principal  features  of  this  Bill : 

It  prohibited  Huguenotic  worship  under  severe  penalties. 

It  ordered  all  Huguenotic  ministers  to  quit  the  kingdom  within  fifteen 
days,  and  to  abstain  from  preaching,  under  pain  of  condemnation  to  the 
galleys. 

It  forbid  schools  for  the  instruction  of  their  children. 

They  might  continue  their  trade  and  enjoy  their  property,  on  condi 
tion  only  of  abstaining  from  worship. 

Browning 's  History  of  the  Huguenots. 


40  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

Sir  Louis  bowed  to  the  question  after  a  parliamentary 
fashion,  but  could  pay  no  further  attention  to  the  inquiry; 
for  Alicia,  the  lovely  being  who  had  filled  his  mind  during 
the  last  seven  months,  whose  letters,  the  reflexes  of  her 
own  pure  thoughts,  had  filled  up  every  vacuity, — she  was 
still  engaging  him;  and,  in  the  myriad  of  questions  he 
obliged  her  to  answer,  she  seemed  to  speak  a  thousand  times 
more  enchantingly. 

The  Duke  still  waited  for  the  desired  information. 
"The  Bill  to  which  you  refer,"  continued  Victor,  "in  its 
first  form  could  not  gain  even  so  much  as  a  lengthy 
debate.  The  premises  on  which  its  framers  had  relied,  the 
body  of  the  Assembly  would  not  assent  to.  It  was  affirmed 
in  opposition,  that  though  the  Huguenots  were  arch  traitors, 
they  were  few  in  number,  and,  therefore,  not  to  be  dreaded, 
provided  precautionary  measures  were  taken  to  prevent 
the  increase,  or  to  cause  a  wide-spread  knowledge  of  their 
vile  tenets.  I  could  not  repress  my  chagrin  at  this  phase 
of  opinion.  It  exhibited  a  coolness  quite  incompatible 
with  true  Catholic  devotion.  And  so  amendment  after 
amendment  was  adopted,  till  nothing  was  gained  but  the 
expulsion  of  these  people  from  our  country,  and  the  con 
fiscation  of  their  property.  I  wish  we  might  apply  to  them 
Nebuchadnezzar's  test  of  a  fiery  furnace,"  continued  the 
son,  in  a  manner,  the  reverentialness  of  which  was 
strangely  in  contrast  with  the  uttered  thought. 

"It  is  well,"  replied  the  Duke,  "though,  indeed,  in  ex 
pelling  the  inhabitants  of  the  adjoining  valley,  we  make  a 
somewhat  heavy  sacrifice.  \Ye  shall  never  get  such  excel- 


THE  HUGUENOT.  41 

lent  labourers.  The  peasants,  elsewhere,  are  too  generally 
lax  in  morals  and  dissolute  in  manners  ;  and  such  kind,  in 
the  absence  of  the  Huguenots,  we  are  like  to  get.  It  is  we, 
I  say,  who  make  the  sacrifice.  Had  extreme  and  active 
punishment  been  summarily  inflicted,  the  most  would  have 
recanted,  and  we  should  have  kept  them  all.  But  it  is  not 
so.  Their  hearts,  maddened  by  this  forced  desertion  from 
their  native  homes,  will  only  rebel  still  more  against  the 
religion  they  desert ;  and  the  tears  they  shed  they  will 
deem  as  offerings  at  the  shrine  of  martyrdom.  Let  them 
go,  however,  where  they  will,  and  die  out." 

"But  they  may  not  go  where  they  will,"  replied  the 
son,  "  and  I  am  very  sure  that  they  will  never  die  out. 
There  must  be  some  earth-born  principle  of  nature  that 
aids  them,  vain-glory,  obstinacy,  or  combativeness ;  for 
the  uniformity  of  their  agreement  on  all  points,  despite 
their  years  and  sinister  purposes,  is  such  as  to  appear,  at 
least,  remarkable." 

"I  trust  you  took  care,  Victor,"  said  the  Duke,  "to 
convey  to  the  members  of  government  a  strong  impression 
of  the  light  in  which  we  view  them.  There  is  something 
ominous  in  having  heretics  so  near.  They  may  well  be 
suspected  of  tainting  the  air  for  miles  around." 

"  I  have  done  this  ;  I  have  cleared  our  house,"  continued 
Victor,  "  from  the  shadow  of  suspicion  of  having,  in  any 
form,  aided  or  encouraged  this  defection ;  and  yet,  and 
yet,"  he  continued,  "there  maybe  one  who  is  not  alto 
gether  guiltless." 

Victor  cast  a  deep  and  searching,  and,  thougli  he  had 

4* 


42  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

not  intended  it,  a  somewhat  angry  look  at  Alicia ;  who, 
while  catching  up  a  word  here  and  there  to  know  the 
current  of  her  lover's  thoughts,  had  been  intently  listening 
to  the  dialogue  which  we  have  traced. 

"I  am  much  mistaken,"  rejoined  the  Duke,  "if  his 
Majesty,  in  endeavouring  by  this  extraordinary  clemency 
to  avoid  one  evil,  does  not  bring  on  his  kingdom  a  greater 
one.  I  have  noted,  and  noted  closely,  the  effect  of  leniency 
on  the  public  will.  The  public  are  restive,  and,  as  the 
good  Bishop  of  Rouen  would  say,  must  be  held  in  with  bit 
and  bridle." 

This  remark  may  serve  to  show  the  characteristic  fea 
tures  of  that  lordly  mind.  The  Duke  had  been  brought 
up  to  understand  the  tenets  of  the  Church  in  their  most 
stringent  application ;  and  was,  in  spirit,  literally  the  most 
rigid  and  intolerant  of  men.  It  is  hard  to  say  whether 
ancestral  veneration  had  or  had  not  any  influence  in 
deepening  his  religious  impressions  ;  certain  it  is  that  he 
had  his  forefathers  in  constant  remembrance,  and,  in 
occasional  allusions,  was  ever  most  wont  to  boast  of  their 
religious  achievements,  whether  in  the  Holy  Land,  or  on 
the  soil  of  France  itself. 

"Good  care  I  took,  as  I  have  said,"  replied  Victor,  in 
a  careless  and  satisfied  air,  "  that  the  king  and  his  minis 
ters  should  not  remove  from  us  one  iota  of  confidence.  In 
fact,  I  think  I  may  say,  that  we  have  rather  gained  than 
lost,  so  far  as  the  effect  of  the  recent  discussion  on  their 
minds  is  concerned." 

"  What  part  did  you  take  ?"  said  the  Duke. 


THE  HUGUENOT.  43 

"  That  of  a  listener,  and  nothing  more.  Looks  are 
more  than  words ; — sometimes  they  tell  more  than  votes  ; 
as  it  was,  I  saw  from  the  first  which  way  the  wind  blew, 
and  thought  it  prudent  to  go  with  it.  There  was  in  truth 
no  choice.  To  have  urged  further  any  rigorous  penalties, 
would  have  been  to  excite  the  more  sympathy  for  the  here 
tics  on  the  part  of  the  members  of  the  Assembly. 

"  Don't  be  too  vituperative,"  added  the  Duke,  who, 
with  a  temperament  not  much  cooler,  had  the  advantage 
of  experience,  and  whose  assertions,  whether  given  in  the 
Chamber  of  Peers,  or  in  the  quietude  of  a  rural  and  un 
ostentatious  life,  were  always  grave. 

Victor  ceased  speaking,  but  plainly  evidenced  some 
spleen  yet  unexhausted,  and  cast  what  appeared  reproach 
ful  glances  towards  his  youngest  sister. 

"Why  are  you  gazing  on  me  so  intently?"  said  Alicia. 

Victor  made  no  answer,  but  turned  away  his  face,  now 
clouded  by  a  bitter  frown. 

The  mild,  entreatful  inquiry,  and  this  sullen  look  of 
response,  struck  the  attention  even  of  her  lover;  and  a 
silence  which  none  seemed  to  like,  but  which  all  helped  to 
continue,  took  the  place  of  the  former  animated  conversa 
tion. 

The  sun  was  now  flinging  his  warm  and  golden  splen 
dour  on  the  green  carpet  of  verdure,  over  which  moved 
the  shadows  of  rustling  boughs.  Alicia  rose,  and  quickly 
advancing  to  the  eastern  window,  threw  it  open,  and 
waving  her  hand  to  the  Count,  stepped  without.  Her 
lover  was  not  long  in  obeying  what  he  chose  to  take 


44  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

for  granted  was  an  invitation  to  follow.  On  stepping 
without  on  the  wooden  balcony,  that  ran  along  almost  on  a 
level  with  the  summit  of  the  slope,  he  saw  Alicia  at  one 
extremity,  bending  over  the  rail,  and  seeming  to  wish  to 
hide  the  emotion  which  her  brother's  sudden  look  might  be 
suppposed  to  have  excited.  As  with  the  sensitive  plant, 
the  least  hurt  was  sure  to  injure  her.  But  it  was  not  the 
look  that  most  affected  her,  the  meaning  look  that  told  how 
well  he  had  been  informed,  while  in  Paris,  of  her  religious 
predilections,  and  how  ready  he  was  to  resent  the  indignity 
which  he  thus  imagined  to  be  given  to  himself,  and  the 
proud  house  of  which  he  was  a  scion.  It  was  that  this 
little  circumstance  was  the  first  completely  to  summon 
her  to  a  sense  of  her  actual  position ; — of  the  penalty  of 
disfavour  she  had  incurred — the  certain  disaffection  of  a 
fond  brother,  who  from  childhood  had  humoured  her  in  all 
her  moods,  and  who  in  every  possible  way  had  sought  to 
exhibit  his  regard. 

Victor,  on  the  other  hand,  was  of  too  generous  a  nature 
long  to  harbour  resentment,  however  just  might  be  its 
occasion.  He  was  as  forgiving  as  he  was  impulsive  ;  traits 
of  character  continually  found  together,  the  one  vainly 
seeking  to  undo  what  the  other  recklessly,  and  yet  with  a 
thought  of  after  repentance,  accomplishes.  Spurred  by  a 
generous  impulse,  he  followed  his  sister,  who  was  descending 
the  slope  in  company  with  her  lover,  and  having  plucked 
from  the  ground,  with  a  readiness  and  propriety  that  might 
have  done  honour  to  an  eastern  imagination,  the  flower 
whose  symbolic  language  is  that  of  reconcilement,  he 


THE  HUGUENOT.  45 

handed  it  to  her  with  a  kind  look,  and  without  waiting  for 
a  reply,  disappeared,  perfectly  satisfied  with  this  effort  at 
compensation,  and  half  blaming  himself,  that  he  had  cre 
dited  so  fully  the  statement  of  Blanche,  as  to  his  sister's 
defection  from  the  established  Church,  convinced  as  he  was, 
that  she  had  neither  strength  of  disposition,  nor  force  of 
mind,  to  resist  the  main  arguments  for  the  Catholic  faith, 
when  once  these  were  properly  adduced  ;  and  satisfied,  also, 
that  even  if  she  was  rebellious,  a  gentle  and  urgent  admo 
nition  would  be  sufficient,  if  not  to  subdue  her  actual  senti 
ments,  at  least  to  restrain  their  expression. 


46  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"Thoughts  by  the  soul  conceived  in  silent  joy, 
Sounds  often  uttered  by  the  timid  voice— 
Till  we  at  last  are  pleased  or  self-deceived!" 

ALICIA  and  her  lover  exchanged  not  a  word  until  they 
reached  the  foot  of  the  slope.  Here  a  deep,  clear,  run 
ning  stream  compelled  them  to  pause.  This  stream,  edged 
by  light  and  graceful  willows,  that  enclosed  between  them 
selves  a  narrow  path,  along  which  the  lovers  glided,  almost 
completely  hid  them  from  the  sight  of  parties  in  the  cha 
teau  ;  certainly  there  was  no  danger  of  having  their  mutual 
revealings  overheard. 

The  Count,  whom  much  travel  had  liberalized,  to  the 
extent  of  allowing  every  one,  without  let  or  hindrance,  to 
exercise  private  judgment,  especially  in  a  matter  so  wholly 
personal  as  is  religion,  was  yet  too  politic  not  to  perceive 
the  effect  which  any  identification  with  the  Huguenotic 
faith  would  exert  on  his  political  prospects.  While  adding 
a  request  to  his  former  protestations,  and  when  about,  in 
the  glowing  language  he  could  so  well  command,  to  depict 
the  happiness  to  which  together  they  might  arrive,  the  two 
had  come  to  a  station  of  ground  that  overlooked  the  beau 
tiful  valley,  commanding  it  from  a  site  that  afforded  every 
advantage  to  light  and  shade,  along  the  whole  line  of  per 
spective. 

The  Count,  who  had  retained  but  uncertain  recollections 
of  this  lovely  scene,  and  that  at  a  time  when  all  its  rich 


THE  HUGUENOT.  47 

foliage  was  but  just  peeping  out,  could  not  restrain  expres 
sions  of  delight.  "  Let  the  stream  wander  where  it  will," 
he  said,  "we  will  go  no  further." 

Alicia,  glad  of  the  half-expected  correspondence  of  feel 
ing,  now  thought  that  she  herself  had  never  beheld  the 
valley  look  so  beautiful.  In  the  moment  when  the  Count 
seemed  so  absorbed  with  the  scene  as  almost  to  have  for 
gotten  his  companion,  Alicia  chose  to  request  of  him  obe 
dience  to  a  request  she  had  to  present. 

"What  is  it,  dearest?"  said  the  Count. 

"I  know  the  strength  of  your  love,"  rejoined  Alicia, 
"  and  would  first  exact  a  promise  of  compliance,  except  for 
the  peculiar  character  of  the  request,  and  that  I  would  not 
wish  to  take  the  undue  advantage  which  your  confidence 
might  allow ;  but  be  sure,  it  is  a  request  I  dearly  wish  to 
have  answered." 

"What  is  it?"  again  repeated  her  lover;  and  as  he 
spoke  he  looked  eagerly  into  the  serene  eyes  of  his  com 
panion. 

"It  is  almost  too  much  to  ask,"  said  Alicia,  in  a  tone  of 
deep  emotion,  "nevertheless,  it  is  in  your  power  to  grant 
it." 

This  was  a  spur  to  the  Count's  impatience,  who,  no 
longer  able  to  restrain  curiosity,  became  himself  the  en- 
treater.  For  a  time  Alicia  resisted  all  attempts  to  reveal 
the  wished-for  boon.  It  was  not  that  she  sought  to  tamper 
with  the  expectation  she  had  excited ;  it  was  from  the  in 
fluence  of  another  and  far  different  feeling. 

"You  see,"  she  at  length  said,  "those  rustic  cottages 
peeping  out  of  the  shrubbery  along  the  sides  of  the  valley. 


48  TKUTH  AND  FANCY. 

See  how  diligently  the  peasants  must  have  laboured  to 
cover  those  barren  slopes  with  so  much  rich  fruitage ;  and 
see  again  how  prettily  their  gardens  are  laid  out.  This 
cannot  have  been  merely  from  motives  of  profit.  Oh,  no  ! 
these  simple-hearted  people  love  their  own  quiet  vale. 
They  feel  happy  when  within  its  shadow,  and  would  not,  I 
believe,  for  any  earthly  sum,  change,  its  quietness  and 
peace." 

"  But  what  is  the  quietness  and  peace  of  rebels,  I  mean 
of  heretics?"  asked  her  companion,  in  a  musing  tone;  for 
with  him  religious  and  political  defection,  notwithstanding 
all  his  practical  liberality,  were  nearly  identical. 

"  See  you,  in  your  turn,  Alicia,  that  chapel  which  your 
ancestors  built  in  their  midst ;  and  know  you  that  they 
neglect  its  worship  and  scorn  its  rites.  For  myself  I  can 
not  afford  to  waste  sympathy  on  any  such  people ;  they 
may  be  peaceable  in  their  lives,  unobtrusive  in  their  man 
ners,  but  this  is  by  no  means  their  whole  duty  ;  and,  though 
I  hate  moralizing,  I  must  say  that  they  deserve  their  fate." 

"Louis,  Louis  !"  interrupted  Alicia,  "speak  not  harshly 
of  those  whom  you  do  not  know.  My  request  concerns 
them;  but  I  will  not  urge  what  now  I  see  you  are  in  no 
mood  to  accept." 

"  I  would  not  deny  any  of  your  wishes,  dearest.  But 
what  can  you  ask  concerning  these  people  that  is  in  my 
power  to  grant  ?  Even  to  refrain  from  allusion  to  them  is 
desirable,  and  for  reasons  you  well  know." 

"  I  perceive  your  feeling,"  said  Alicia,  mournfully.  "  It 
is  that  I  share  in  the  obloquy  and  scorn  supposed  to  attach 
to  these  people,  who,  with  all  their  imagined  and  imputed 


THE  HUGUENOT.  49 

wickedness,  have  cast  away  neither  the  Bible  nor  its  pre 
cepts." 

"I  am  no  theologian,  my  dear  Alicia;  but  surely  ours 
is  a  better  and  a  purer  faith.  It  has  been  sanctioned  by 
the  devotion  of  ages,  and  to  cast  it  away,  to  descend  to  an 
argument  springing  from  unenlightened  minds,  to  whims 
and  fancies,  were  to  prove  recreant  to  the  noblest  sense  of 
the  soul,  that  of  dependence  on  superior  wisdom.  We 
should  always  side  with  experience.  Say  you  not  so, 
Alicia  ?" 

"  Why  should  not  the  acceptance  of  the  Bible  be  suffi 
cient,  nay,  all  that  should  be  demanded  of  these  people  ? 
Is  not  the  sum  of  all  religion  to  perform  constantly  deeds 
of  mercy,  and  to  keep  one's  self  unspotted  from  the 
world?" 

"  I  had  no  conception  you  were  so  good  an  arguer,"  said 
the  Count,  musingly.  "  What  you  say  is  true,  but  more 
is  needed.  Another  stream  than  that  of  revelation  has 
flowed  by  man's  path  from  primeval  times, — a  stream  that 
illustrates  and  developes  Christianity,  and  to  whose  current 
the  Church,  for  our  confidence,  often  points.  During  my 
late  journey,  I  was  gazing  on  the  milky  way.  What  a 
crowded  concrete  mass  of  matter  it  appeared !  and  yet 
astrologers  descry  amidst  it  innumerable  suns.  And  so, 
dearest,  though  you  understand  not  all  the  teachings  of  the 
Church,  you  might  surely  conclude,  from  its  many  points 
of  undoubted  light,  that  the  whole  proceeds  from  a  di 
vinely  illuminated  and  exhaustless  source." 

Alicia  wondered  in  herself  to  hear  her  lover  thus  mar 
vellously  discoursing. 


50  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

Truly  the  Count  had  every  earthly  motive  to  feel  inte 
rested  as  to  the  effect  his  words  might  produce,  had  every 
reason  to  summon  up  his  energies ;  he  had  spoken  with  an 
energy  and  persuasiveness  worthy  of  a  clerical  member  of 
the  religion  of  which  he  scarcely  assumed  himself  to  be  the 
advocate.  In  that  day  a  theoretical  and  unconditional  as 
sent  to  the  tenets  of  the  Church  was  admitted  as  the 
bounden  test  of  Christian  discipleship ;  in  what  age  could 
less  have  been  demanded  ?  To  refuse  assent  to  any  one  of 
these  was  to  impugn  the  character  of  the  Church  to  infalli 
bility:  a  character  it  had  sought  nobly  to  sustain  through 
many  ages  and  to  justify  amidst  all  circumstances.  Those 
who  thus  believed  were  bound  for  conscience  sake  to  maintain 
the  jurisdiction  of  St.  Peter  ;  and  any  want  of  zeal  was 
properly  construed  into  a  want  of  religious  veneration.  It 
could  not  be  otherwise.  And  happier  were  the  members 
of  the  established  Church,  thus  restrained  to  an  uncondi 
tional  surrender  of  individual  opinion, — a  surrender  which 
in  few  instances  was  felt  as  grievous,  and  till  this  time 
was  scarce  even  regretted, — better,  we  say,  was  this,  than 
that  loose  liberalism  which  afterward  found  its  way  into 
more  than  one  Protestant  Church,  the  liberalism  which,  so 
far  from  presenting  any  landmarks,  so  continually  shifts 
to  and  fro  the  standard  of  truth — so  misconstrues,  so  doubts 
and  combines  the  pure  precepts  and  doctrines  of  the  Bible, 
that  its  adherents  are  more  and  more  mystified,  and  while 
in  the  constant  practice  of  making  new  discoveries,  are  for 
ever  learning  and  never  able  to  come  to  the  knowledge  of 
the  truth.  The  Huguenots,  happily,  were  so  far  restrained 
by  past  prepossessions,  by  long  cultured  habits  of  mental 


THE  HUGUENOT.  51 

discipline,  as  not  to  have  trespassed  thus  far,  but  to  be  dis 
posed  to  receive  with  meekness  the  engrafted  word  which 
was  able  to  save  their  souls. 

Alicia  still  continued  silent,  and  her  lover  would  proba 
bly  have  immediately  reverted  to  another,  and  to  him  a 
more  agreeable  topic,  but  that  her  mind  was  so  strongly 
bent  on  this.  He  drew  her  fondly  to  him,  as  he  said,  "I 
ask  your  pardon,  dearest,  if  I  have  offended  you;. but  what 
was  your  request  ?" 

"It  can  serve  no  purpose,"  said  Alicia,  "now  to  disclose 
it.  These  people  must  look  to  Heaven  for  aid.  I  had 
hoped,  vainly  hoped,  that  you  would  be  willing,  for  the  sake 
of  your  Alicia,  to  grant  the  request  she  makes,  that  you 
would  use  your  influence  to  obtain  a  revocation  of  the 
decree." 

"A  revocation  of  the  decree,  Alicia !  Impossible  !  You 
know  not  how  these  decrees  are  brought  about;  and  even 
could  my  breath  dissolve  the  enactment,  that  breath  should 
be  restrained.  Besides,  do  you  think  me  so  mad  as  to 
seek,  however  strongly  disposed,  an  amendment,  the  adop 
tion  of  which  would  inevitably  lead  to  an  injurious,  nay  to 
fatal  suspicion." 

"Ah!"  said  his  companion,  in  a  mild  and  rebuking  tone, 
"  it  is  this  union  of  policy  and  religion  in  the  rulers  of 
France  that  does  the  harm.  I  know  well  that  it  is  neither 
the  good  bishops  nor  their  cure's  who  work  these  wicked 
deeds ;  it  is  the  artfulness  of  those  who,  having  proved 
traitors  to  their  own  special  trusts,  would  thus  exhibit 
their  devotion  to  the  state  !" 

"You  speak  violently,  Alicia!      You   are   getting   ex- 


52  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

cited.  It  is  a  localized,  a  narrow  sympathy  that  can  weep 
over  the  mild  expulsion  of  the  dwellers  in  this  lovely  val 
ley,  and  not  consider  the  evil  otherwise  resulting  from  the 
dangerous  and  contagious  influence  of  their  example." 

"It  is  not  selfishness,  Louis ;  it  is  unity  in  feeling  and 
in—" 

The  Count  started.  With  all  his  knowledge  of  the  re 
ligious  delinquencies  of  his  companion,  he  had  not  sup 
posed  that  she  would  thus  make  a  tacit  and  absolute  con 
fession  of  her  views. 

"It  is  a  dangerous  time  to  avow  this,"  remarked  Sir 
Louis.  "A  wild,  foolish  whim  is  bearing  you  away.  You 
have  in  this  part  of  France  had  too  much  seclusion ;  some 
melting  mood — some  poetry-stricken  fancy  that  there  is 
something  purer,  higher,  better  than  the  Church  can 
show,  possesses  you." 

"  Say  not  so,"  said  Alicia.  "  Were  I  assured  you  would 
continue  to  think  thus,  I  might,  indeed,  have  endeavoured 
to  hide  my  thoughts;  but  even  this  I  could  not  have  done 
without  dissembling.  I  did  not  wish  to  meet  you  with 
other  than  a  smiling  face  and  a  light  heart ;  but  it  is  for 
the  news  you  bring  that  I  am  sad ;  it  is  for  the  thought 
that  the  vale  in  which  from  childhood  I  have  wandered  is 
to  be  deserted  by  its  tenants;  it  is  more, — for  all  they  are 
going  to  suffer,  for  all  that  your  Alicia  shall  endure!" 

"  Speak  not  thus,"  said  the  Count,  who  perceived  not 
the  profound  import  of  the  last  word  ;  "in  the  lively 
amusements  we  shall  presently  engage  in,  all  these  dreary 
visions  shall  perish.  Hark!  the  forester  is  sounding  his 
bugle  for  the  chase.  Let  us  return." 


THE  HUGUENOT.  53 

\ 

As  Louis  bent  down  to  kiss  the  tearful  cheek  of  his  lovely 
companion,  he  perceived  a  steady  decision  imprinted  on 
the  soft  lineaments  of  Alicia,  that  told  how  little  his  last 
words  had  found  entrance  to  her  heart.  The  hugle  just 
now  sounded  right  merrily; — on  field  and  forest,  hill 
and  flood,  was  spread  the  sweet  ligh  of  creation.  0  who, 
amidst  such  a  scene,  with  thoughts  only  of  love,  might  not 
be  judged  happy  !  And  yet  in  truth, 

"  Like  one  pure  rill  that  sudden  shocks  divide, 
In  separate  channels  they  have  parted  wide, 
To  seek  and  fret  their  way  into  the  main, 
But,  till  they  reach  it,  never  meet  again. 
Yet  long  as  Memory's  trembling  hand  unrolls 
To  them  the  record  of  life's  early  day, 
Gray,  crag-girt  valley !  thou  upon  their  souls 
Hast  left  a  shade  that  shall  not  pass  away." 

The  emotions  of  Alicia  were  visible  less  in  her  agitated 
manner  and  quivering  features,  than  in  the  laboured 
breathings  which  escaped  her  lips.  The  Count,  too,  was 
evidently  affected ;  and  though  the  distance  from  the 
stream  to  the  southern  wing  of  the  chateau,  where  the 
caparisoned  steeds  were  now  in  waiting,  did  not  exceed  a 
hundred  paces,  neither  could  hide  from  the  other  an  anxiety 
to  close  this  painful  interview — for  it  was  but  an  interview, 
and  not  that  sweet  interchange  of  feeling  which  is  the 
climax  of  true  and  fond  affection.  In  his  inmost  heart,  if 
the  truth  might  only  have  been  there  revealed,  the  Count 
discovered  an  estrangement  from  the  object  of  his  choice, 
without  any  diminution  of  his  respect.  At  this  time, 
moreover,  alliances  were  entered  into  with  as  much  con- 

5* 


54  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

sideration  for  family  connexion,  as  though  the  happiness  of 
life  depended  on  the  coincidence  in  the  value  of  each  party's 
social  position  and  wealth ;  and  truly,  to  the  gay,  volatile 
French,  the  immemorial  custom  of  retaining  the  distinc 
tions  of  rank  was  little  regarded  as  a  burden.  The 
Count  knew  not  as  yet  that  his  heart  was  more  than  ten 
dril-bound, — that  the  love  of  Alicia  was  a  reality  that  would 
presently  triumph  over  all  other  considerations.  It  is  no 
easy  matter  to  fathom  the  depths  of  one's  own  heart. 

The  Duke  and  his  son  were  awaiting  on  horseback  the 
Count's  approach.  No  sooner  were  the  party  in  full  view 
than  the  latter,  forgetful  of  this  sad  interview,  raised  his 
cap  with  an  air  of  triumph,  and,  shouting  out  with  might 
and  main,  stepped  in  advance  of  Alicia ;  then  bowing  to 
Blanche,  who  stood  within  the  balcony,  he  sprang  on  the 
remaining  steed.  The  whole  party,  preceded  by  foresters, 
bounded  on  towards  the  forest,  which  stretched  in  a  west- 
wardly  direction  more  than  thirty  miles. 

It  was  not  long  before  they  had  disappeared  from  the 
view  of  the  two  sisters ; — Blanche  and  Alicia  had  again  met. 

"  Weeping  already,  Alicia  !"  said  Blanche.  "Remem 
ber  this  is  a  gala-day.  What  makes  you  sad  ?  Some  little 
jealousy — some  story  of  Racine — some  thought,  that  pre 
sent  bliss  is  too — " 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,  sister,"  rejoined  Alicia.  "You 
know  well  the  heart  at  times  must  grieve." 

"  But  this  is  such  an  unseasonable  time  to  do  so.  Ah ! 
my  dear  Alicia,  those  religious  mists  have  bound  you  hand 
and  foot ;  they  have  clouded  your  bright  spirit,  before  so 
sedate ;  they  have  exhausted  your  liveliness  and  your  joy. 


THE  HUGUENOT.  55 

Alas  !  what  have  they  not  done  ?  Let  us  come  within  and 
practise  some  of  the  liveliest  songs,  for  on  their  return  the 
Count  and  Victor  will  certainly  ask  for  something  of  the 
kind.  Let  me  see :  do  you  not  remember  that  beautiful 
song  commencing — 

Through  Nature's  blossoms  strewing, 
One  footstep  we  are  viewing, 
One  flash  from  golden  pinions  ! — 
If  from  Heaven's  starry  sea, 
If  from  the  moonlit  sky, 
If  from  the  sun's  domains, 

- 

Looked  not  Love's  laughing  eye — 

Then  sun  and  moon  and  stars  would  be 

Alike  without  a  smile  for  me  ! 

But  oh,  wherever  Nature  lives, 

Below,  around,  above. 

Her  happy  eye  the  mirror  gives 

To  thy  glad  beauty,  Love!" 

Alicia  upon  this  kissed  tenderly  again  her  sister;  for 
much  as  these  two  sisters  differed  in  the  characteristics  of 
their  minds  and  the  tendencies  of  their  opinions,  they  had 
ever  mutual  affection  for  each  other ;  each  had  imparted 
to  each  the  warmest  love ;  and  though,  of  late,  a  chill  had 
resulted  from  the  withdrawal  of  Alicia  from  the  daily  rites 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  communion,  it  had  not  passed  to 
any  sensible  diminution  of  confidence,  except  in  this,  that 
Alicia  now  ceased  to  communicate  to  Blanche  her  deepest, 
her  inmost  feelings,  to  give  expression  to  those  sweet  feel 
ings,  which  all  religions,  however  simple  their  rites,  and 
however  solemn  and  mysterious,  will,  with  devout  worship 
pers,  unfailingly  excite. 


00  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

Alicia  had  no  reason  to  withhold  and  did  not  cease  her 
delight  in  portions  of  the  Romish  ritual ;  her  heart,  fol 
lowing  its  native  instincts,  clung  to  the  symbols  of  the  un 
seen  and  the  spiritual.  Indeed,  though  she  acknowledged 
not  more  than  would  the  Huguenots,  she  had  continued  to 
attend  their  grand  and  impressive  service,  and  anticipated 
with  some  degree  of  sadness  its  entire  loss.  The  Hugue 
nots  themselves  were  wont  to  regard  her  with  reserve,  by 
reason  of  her  unwillingness  to  acquiesce  in  their  extreme 
conclusions,  and  it  was  not  till  other  events  had  transpired, 
— events  that  tested  her  fidelity  to  the  utmost,  and  drew 
from  her  such,  sacrifices  as  the  young  maidenly  heart  has 
seldom  been  called  to  make, — that  they  fully  received  her 
into  their  confidence. 

The  song  that  Blanche  had  proposed  continued  unsung: 
her  own  mind  was  at  this  time  in  full,  untrammelled  gaiety, 
wandering  too  far  and  over  too  wide  a  surface  to  allow  it 
to  rest  on  any  one  certain  thing ;  the  heart  of  Alicia,  on 
the  contrary,  was  riveted  on  a  theme  to  which  she  dared 
not  give  expression ;  at  times  she  started,  with  the  vehe 
mence  of  her  thoughts — thoughts  which  the  more  she 
strove  to  hide,  the  more  would  she  umvittingly  make 
known. 

"Now  tell  to  me  what  ails  you,  my  dear  sister?"  said 
Blanche,  seating  herself  at  the  same  time  beside  Alicia, 
throwing  around  her,  her  warm,  loving  arms ;  "you  are  sad 
when  you  should  be  gay." 

"Is  it  impossible  for  you  to  divine  the  cause,  Blanche? 
Heard  you  not  my  father's  muttered  words?" 

"Ah!  let  me  consider,"  said  Blanche,  stooping  down  and 


THE  HUGUENOT.  57 

eyeing  a  small  figure  in  the  carpet,  as  though  the  better  to 
abstract  her  thoughts;  "I  do  remember  now  that  his  man 
ner  was  unusual  as  he  mounted  that  fiery  charger.  Yes, 
and  as  he  mounted  he  cast  a  look  at  you  that  was — let  me 
think ! — it  was  not  1  o ving. "  Blanche  paused,  and  then  again 
broke  out  in  quite  a  different  tone,  yet  without  any  change 
in  her  affectionate  manner:  "You  act  wrongly,  Alicia, 
very  wrongly.  All  would  love  you  more,  and  all  would  be 
happier,  if  you  only  would  recant  those  ridiculous  opinions 
which  the  ignorant  people  in  the  valley  have  been  simple 
enough  to  tell  you  of,  and  you  to  adopt." 

"And  let  me  tell  you,"  said  Blanche,  in  a  whispering 
tone,  "you  are  thus  incurring  for  yourself  much  danger, 
and  for  our  entire  household  much  obloquy." 

"  Then  the  line  of  separation  is  drawn  already,"  re 
turned  Alicia,  who,  without  looking  at  her  sister,  con 
tinued  to  view  mournfully  the  portrait  of  her  mother — a 
woman  who  had  claim  to  the  noble  lineage  of  the  family 
of  the  Medici,  and  who,  with  an  expression  befitting  her 
illustrious  origin,  bore  that  sweet  tenderness  of  feeling 
which  wins  while  it  subdues. 

"  Answer  me,  my  sister,"  continued  the  unremitting 
Blanche,  "  why  will  you  persist  in  this  dangerous  course  ? 
Whence  do  you  get  this  strength  of  will,  so  far  beyond 
your  years — so  extraordinary,  so  unaccountable  ?  Is  it  to 
continue  or  to  cease  ?  Hear  me,  my  sister,  and  consider  too 
the  effect  that  your  conduct  will  have  on  the  Count.  He 
has  already  been  made  aware  of  your  predilection ;  he  has, 
perhaps,  remonstrated  with  you.  Be  sure  that  his  love  will 


58  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

never  lead  him  to  an  identification  with  your  wild  fancies ; 
he  would  as  soon  think  of  blotting  out  his  hopes  of  heaven, 
as  of  withdrawing  from  the  communion  of  a  church  which 
affords  whatever  is  necessary  to  salvation.  Even  now  he 
appears  to  have  taken  the  alarm.  I  noticed  a  restlessness 
in  his  eye  that  betokens  but  little  satisfaction  with  what 
ever  communications  you  have  made  to  him.  Yes,  that  un 
satisfied  and  contradictory  expression  was  visible  beneath 
all  his  gaiety.  If  you  change,  why  may  he  not  ?  For  his 
sake,  then,  if  not  for  your  own, — for  his  sake  who  has  so 
much  to  gain,  so  much  to  lose, — undo  your  present  mind. 
You  are  beguiled,  my  sweet  sister,  with  vain  and  foolish 
dreams.  It  is  not  for  you  to  hold  sympathy  with  the  rude 
peasantry;  what  can  they  divine  of  truth?  'Tis  said 
they  possess  concealed  copies  of  the  Scriptures,  but  out  of 
the  pale  of  the  Church,  how  shall  they  or  you  be  assured  of 
finding  for  its  texts  a  certain  meaning  ?" 

"Stay,  stay,  Blanche — say  no  more.  I  see  all,  I  feel 
all.  I  am  conscious  of  the  penalty ;  its  most  certain  por 
tion — banishment  from  this  pleasant  home  by  an  angry 
father." 

"I  will  not  hide  from  you  the  full  danger,"  responded 
Blanche,  who  supposed  her  words  were  now  making  an  im 
pression.  "  My  father  has  already  spoken  to  me  with  much 
bitterness  as  to  your  course,  and  made  many  threats. 
What  the  end  will  be  I  know  not ;  but  this  is  certain, 
that  he  will  endeavour  by  every  personal  means,  and  if 
this  fail,  by  appeal  to  the  lawful  tribunal,  to  compel  at 
least  an  external  acquiescence,  so  that  our  honour  may  be 
saved.  Why  do  you  thus  insure  to  yourself  punishment,  my 


THE  HUGUENOT.  59 

sister  ?  I  feel  for  your  position  on  account  of  this  declen 
sion,  but  I  cannot  have  any  sympathy  with  it." 

Blanche  looked  to  Alicia  for  an  answer.  Alicia  folded 
her  hands,  laid  her  warm  cheek  on  her  sister's  shoulder,  and 
then  let  fall  those  tears  which  Tasso  has  described  by  the 
image  of  those  drops  that  precede  a  shower — the  forcings 
of  a  mighty  tide  that  is  heaving  with  its  own  force,  but  has 
not  yet  commenced  its  flow. 

"  Blanche,  look  at  me,  and  tell  me — is  there  no  way  of 
hope  ?  I  adore  the  same  Saviour,  and  worship  the  same 
God." 

"  But  you  partake  not  of  the  mass." 

"I  do  accept  it." 

"  But  from  the  hands  of  those  who  profane  the  rite,"  ex 
claimed  Blanche  vehemently.  "  I  will  tell  you  the  words 
of  my  father — '  Think  you,'  said  he,  '  that  the  world  would 
stand,  that  society  would  be  kept  together,  that  its  rabble 
masses  would  be  restrained  from  the  consuming  fires  which 
jealousy  and  envy  are  always  feeding,  if  the  doctrines  of 
the  holy  Church  were  to  be  held  loosely  ?  The  defection 
of  Alicia  may  seem  unimportant  to  herself;  but  to  ourselves, 
and  to  the  interests  of  the  true  Church,  especially  at  this 
time,  it  is  of  serious  importance.'  These  were  his  very 
words.  Why  will  you  brave  his  wrath  ?  Return,  my 
sweet  sister,  and  let  the  blessed  Virgin  be  again  your  pro 
tector." 

Blanche  was  yet  in  uncertainty  as  to  the  bent  which  her 
sister's  mind  had  taken.  Whilst  telling  out  the  penalties, 
Blanche  had  never  for  a  moment  dreamed  that  her  sister 
would  persist  in  exposing  herself  to  them ;  had  it  been  so, 


60  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

she  would,  under  the  instruction  of  her  confessor,  have 
shown  a  decided  antipathy  to  any  further  communica 
tion  till  the  hoped  for  change  had  come  to  pass.  And 
truly,  had  the  sentiments  of  Alicia  not  been  interwoven 
with  her  very  existence,  such  a  course  would,  perhaps,  have 
been  not  the  least  of  effectual  modes  ;  for  Alicia  was  of  that 
trustful,  loving  nature  which  climbs  around,  yea,  builds 
itself  upon  the  love  of  others. 

But  the  great  secret  was  as  yet  deeply  hid — none  yet 
were  worthy  to,  or  could  share  her  inward  thoughts,  her 
pains  or  purposes.  What  more  Blanche  said,  or  what  more 
Alicia  answered,  need  not  be  told :  when  they  parted  each 
one  felt  the  other  to  be  more  a  stranger  to  herself,  and  each 
looked  (though  how  differently !)  to  the  speedy  return  of 
the  hunters. 


THE  HUGUENOT.  61 


CHAPTEEV. 

"  Tis  night,  and  the  landscape  is  lovely  no  more ; 

I  mourn:  but,  ye  woodlands,  I  mourn  not  for  you; 
For  morn  is  returning  your  charms  to  restore, 
Perfumed  with  fresh  fragrance,  and  glittering  with  dew." 

ALICIA,  from  the  casement  of  a  small  sitting-room  that 
adjoined  her  chamber,  was  the  first  inmate  of  the  ch&- 
teau  who  descried  the  returning  party.  She  had  been 
engaged,  as  well  as  had  her  sister,  in  making  preparations 
for  the  evening.  Every  possible  arrangement  having  been 
made,  she  was  now  bending  thoughtfully  over  a  light  pro 
jecting  branch  of  alder  wood,  the  fragrance  from  which 
scented  the  air  of  the  whole  chamber.  The  branches  of  a 
rare  vine  had  clustered  round  the  window  from  which  she 
looked,  and  almost  wholly  shrouded  her  form.  With  her 
mild,  sweet,  and  saddened  countenance,  she  might  there 
have  stood,  in  the  view  of  some  gifted  artist  without,  or  to 
any  one  with  a  spark  of  true  sentiment,  for  the  apparition 
of  a  young  nun,  looking  out  from  a  seclusion  already  too 
still  and  too  protracted  to  happily  endure. 

"  They  come !"  said  Alicia  to  herself,  "  nearer  and 
more  near.  Why  does  my  foolish  heart  beat  so  ?  Let 
me  restrain  ftoth  my  joy  and  my  grief.  Sufficient  for  the 
day  is  both  its  good  and  evil.  I  will  try  not  to  interfere 
so  much  with  the  happiness  of  others."  And  the  gentle 
girl,  looking  afar,  watched,  through  many  a  long,  blue 
woodland  aisle,  the  flashing  forms  of  the  richly  caparisoned 
steeds,  and  the  dark  dress  of  the  riders,  not  yet  clearly  dis 
tinguishable.  Now  and  then  a  horseman  would  strike  out 


62  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

from  the  party,  and,  with  the  sky  for  a  background,  ap 
pear  in  grand  relief.  At  intervals  the  whole  group  would 
seem,  as  they  descended  to  a  dell,  to  sink  beneath  the  earth, 
or  be  lost  in  the  numerous  ambuscades  the  woods  afforded, 
and  which  lay  in  gigantic  masses  in  every  direction.  At 
length  rose  ringing  in  the  air  the  sound  of  the  clear  horn, 
and  presently  was  heard  the  bark  of  the  fleet  dogs,  con 
scious  of  having,  in  the  few  hours  that  had  elapsed,  sus 
tained  their  well-earned  reputation.  As  the  full  cavalcade 
came  in  view,  emerging  from  some  dusky  underwood,  it 
was  truly  a  grand  sight  to  see  the  lofty  and  graceful  ap 
pearance  of  the  noble  riders.  The  lover  of  Alicia  descried 
her  as  he  neared  the  gate  leading  into  the  court-yard  ;  and 
at  the  instant  raising  his  cap,  he  saluted  her  with  a  grace 
worthy  of  the  most  accomplished  knights  of  the  zenith 
days  of  chivalry. 

The  second  reception  of  the  visiters  was  certainly  as 
cordial  as  they  could  possibly  desire.  Few  as  were  the 
apparent  resorts  for  beguiling  the  remaining  time  of  that 
day,  and  of  this  eventful  visit,  there  was  no  danger  of  any 
failure — indeed,  without  music,  walks  in  the  conservatory, 
rambles  in  the  vineyards,  visits  to  the  falconry,  boating 
excursions  in  a  light  canoe  that  rested  swan-like  on  the 
wide-spread  waters  of  what,  in  the  exaggeration  of  a  local 
geographical  map,  might  have  been  termed  a  lake — appear 
ing,  as  it  did,  the  larger  by  its  many  windings,  and  the 
jutting  projection  of  rocks  clothed  with  shrubbery — the 
society  of  the  sisters  would  have  been  sufficient  to  prevent 
that  sad,  sombre  hue,  which  is  apt  to  come  upon  one  in 
the  long  summer  days  of  idleness  and  rest. 


THE  HUGUENOT.  63 

When  the  first  evening  of  this  visit  came,  and  its  soft, 
mild  light  was  tinging  every  object  that  looked  toward 
the  west  with  a  mellow  glow,  when  the  pure,  fresh  breeze, 
that  wakes  with  night,  began  flowing  from  its  unknown 
source,  pressing  in  its  motion  every  leaf  and  shrub,  and 
making  the  outspread  waters  to  ripple  unceasingly,  Alicia 
and  the  Count  again  met,  and  in  that  "most  romantic  of 
all  romantic  places,  a  vine-clad  porch  that  opened  towards 
the  lake,  which  skirted  the  western  extremity  of  the 
chateau. 

"See  you  yon  bird,"  said  Alicia;  "the  bird  that  has 
just  wet  its  wing  in  those  perturbed  waters  ?  Why  does 
it  not  return  to  its  nest  ?  the  day  is  spent." 

"  It  cannot  choose  now  to  roam ;  true,  there  is  a  reason 
for  your  question.  Probably  its  nest  has  been  destroyed. 
In  yon  bush  about  which  it  flies,  the  bush  trembling  and 
hanging  over  the  brink,  must  have  been  suspended  its  light 
nest.  Who  would  not  have  thought  it  there  secure?" 

"I  grieve  for  the  little  winged  flutterer,"  said  Alicia; 
"  and  yet  human  griefs,  the  griefs  of  our  fellow-creatures, 
are  greater,  and  these  we  heed  not." 

-"You  are  thinking  again  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
valley,"  said  her  lover,  as  he  quickly  recalled  the  conver 
sation  that  had  so  lately  passed.  "  Thinking  of  them 
again !  Certainly  they  are  to  be  pitied ;  but  not  yet — 
they  are  not  yet  gone,  and  when  gone,  it  will  be  their  own 
choice.  I  would  not  grieve  you,  dearest,  but  I  must  tell 
you  that  your  sympathy  with  those  people  has  hurt  me 
much,  and  has  already  served  as  an  embarrassing  restraint 
between  us.  Your  sweetness  of  disposition  seems,  in  this 


64  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

instance,  to  have  overcome  your  customary  sound  judg 
ment." 

"Would  you  change  love  to  friendship?"  said  Alicia, 
musingly. 

"  That  I  never  can,  my  Alicia ;  but  yet  our  meeting 
is  vain,  our  future  union  impossible,  as  long  as  this 
presumptuous  fancy  of  a  better  faith  continues.  Submit 
to  my  assurance  of  its  folly ;  suffer  this  kiss  to  seal  your 
consent." 

But  Alicia,  knowing  how  much  the  proffered  token 
implied,  held  aloof.  She  perceived  the  impossibility  of 
disposing  the  mind  of  her  lover  to  a  calm  investigation  of 
the  basis  of  difference,  whilst  her  own  good  judgment 
acknowledged  the  justice  of  not  allowing  his  success  in 
life,  by  any  longer  alliance  with  herself,  to  be  so  seriously 
interfered  with  as  it  must  else  evidently  be.  In  that 
moment  her  full  resolve  was  taken ;  whatever  assertions 
she  might  make,  it  was  plain  he  would  never  tacitly 
consent  to  a  present  withdrawal  of  their  engagement ;  he 
would  not,  for  years  to  come,  bring  himself  to  the  belief 
that  she  would  abide  by  her  present  religious  convictions, 
and  that  she  would  not  some  day  return  lamb-like  to  the 
one  fold  of  the  Church. 

With  all  his  love  for  Alicia,  however,  the  Count  was 
not  one  who  would  allow  himself  to  be  carried  away  by 
blind  enthusiasm.  Like  one  who  has  ascended  a  mountain 
to  secure  the  flowers  whose  beauty  had  delighted  him  from 
below,  and  finds  them  yet  beyond  his  reach,  growing  only 
on  the  borders  of  a  dark  abyss,  so  he,  when  deeming  his 
highest  hopes  near  consummation,  beheld  them,  if  not 


THE  HUGUENOT.  65 

dashed  down — for  this  his  own  proud  and  lofty  spirit  would 
not  confess — indefinitely  removed,  and  this  by  a  cause 
which  the  whole  strength  of  his  iron  will  could  not  do 
away  with.  Happily  to  the  warm  enthusiasm  of  his  nature, 
the  Count  Louis  added  that  habit  of  cool  and  cautious 
policy,  with  which  those  bred  in  courts  are  so  familiar ; 
and,  in  place  of  needlessly  grieving  over  the  delay,  or 
regarding  Alicia  as  irrecoverably  lost,  he  busied  himself 
in  planning  how  he  might  effectually  countervail  her  pre 
sent  mind  and  temper. 

Alas,  poor  Alicia  !  thou  too  wert  like  the  nestless  bird ; 
already  the  shades  of  evening,  the  shadows  of  night,  steal 
around  thee,  and  thy  heart  is  overflowing  with  emotions 
and  thine  eyes  are  wet  with  tears,  and  the  present  to  thee 
has  no  joy,  and  the  future  no  hope  ! 

The  festivities  that  night  in  the  chateau  were  of  the 
most  brilliant  and  pleasurable  description.  Additional 
arrivals  of  visitors  imparted  high  exhilaration.  The  ban 
queting  hall  was  a  square  room,  cased  in  oak,  its  walls 
covered  with  scroll-work  and  carved  figures,  many  of  these 
rudely  made,  but  all  bearing  reference  to  feats  of  the 
illustrious  ancestors  of  the  noble  house  of  D'Angouleine. 
No  sooner  had  the  festive  board  been  swept,  than  the 
gaiety  and  hilarity  of  the  company  became  almost  unre 
strained.  Huguenots  were  forgotten,  and,  apparently, 
every  source  of  general  discontent  and  every  private  care. 
Most  of  the  squires  composing  the  company  were  pos 
sessed  of  large  landed  property,  their  chief  claim  to 
importance.  With  these  were  some  of  the  fairest  and 
most  bewitching  beauties — though  none  looked  so  fair 

6* 


66  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

and  gentle  as  Alicia,  or  so  graceful  and  bland  as  Blanche. 
The  conversation  carried  on  possessed,  notwithstanding  its 
evanescent  character  and  whimsical  tone,  a  vigour  which 
has  now  almost  disappeared  from  the  social  circles  of 
France.  With  the  lightest,  were  also  maintained  the 
weightiest  themes,  as  well  in  the  full  career  of  excitement 
as  in  the  pauses  which  came  from  exhausted  spirits,  like 
the  pauses  in  a  storm. 

Blanche  exerted  every  effort  to  sustain  the  vivacity  of 
the  guests.  Alicia,  completely  retired,  and  almost  hid 
behind  the  blaze  of  two  huge  chandeliers,  endeavoured  to 
appear  perfectly  composed,  although  her  fair  brow,  formed 
for  the  sweet  expression  of  quiet  happiness,  was  plainly 
overcast  with  the  deep  dyes  of  sorrow.  She  observed  that 
her  father,  notwithstanding  all  the  banqueting,  was  sub 
ject  to  gloomy,  even  painful  thoughts.  Almost  without 
intention,  his  eyes  would  follow  in  the  direction  of  herself 
and  the  Count.  They  sat  near  each  other,  but  held  no 
conversation ;  neither  did  the  Count  appear  entirely  free 
from  impressions  of  a  kindred  nature  to  those  which 
troubled  his  noble  host.  At  once  wearied  with  the  day's 
amusement,  and  its  bitter  revelation,  the  forced  journeys 
which  his  haste  from  Paris  had  occasioned,  increased 
the  excitement. 

Thus  hour  after  hour  went  by,  uncounted  and  uncared 
for ;  but,  0 !  how  long  to  be  remembered  in  the  lives  of 
those  two — perhaps  in  the  lives  of  all.  It  is  even  so  : 
the  hours  most  heedlessly  thrown  away  are  often  those  in 
which  our  fate  is  being  worked  out  in  its  unchangeable- 


THE  HUGUENOT.  67 

ness ;  the  pearls  which  we  set  at  naught  are  too  often 
those  only  which  can  enrich  us. 

When  the  evening  had  grown  late,  and  mirth — for  all 
mirth  must  have  its  end — had  become  exhausted,  the 
Count  left  a  knot  of  gentlemen  with  whom  he  had  been 
engaged  in  conversation,  and  approached  Alicia,  with  the 
evident  intention  of  essaying  to  relieve  her  depressed 
spirits.  With  this  purposed  view,  he  drew  near  to  her  a 
fine  old  harpsichord,  which,  on  account  of  its  antique 
frame,  formed  one  of  the  most  striking  and  interesting 
articles  of  furniture  in  the  room.  Alicia  would  gladly 
have  desisted  from  calling  out  the  slumbering  tones ;  yet 
how  could  her  heart  resist  what  might  prove  the  last  request 
of  one  so  dear  !  A  gladdening  smile  fell  on  her  features,  as 
she  slowly  bent  over  the  instrument.  In  a  moment  more, 
she  had  struck  the  note  of  one  of  those  simple  airs  to 
which  the  pious  Huguenots  had  arranged  their  hymns. 
Now  and  then,  the  voice  of  the  player  chimed  with  a 
plaintive  murmur  in,  as  though  speech  and  sound  at  an 
infinitely  remote  distance,  were  following  the  spirit  into 
brighter  regions. 

The  Duke  stood  by,  gazing  on  his  daughter  as  she  sung, 
and  feeling  it  to  be  impossible  to  view  her  without  glad 
ness,  or  without  thoughts  of  the  noble  station  she  was  so 
fit  to  grace.  Had  gifted  mind  and  rare  accomplishments 
ever  been  able  to  shield  their  possessors  from  earth's 
griefs,  Alicia  might  then  have  been  deemed  more  than 
fortunate ;  and  was  she  not  in  the  computation  of  the 
great  hereafter  to  be  still  deemed  so  ?  These  gifts,  were 
they  not  of  equal  value  when  appointed  to  subserve  holier 


68  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

purposes  than  those  connected  with  social  gratification — 
to  shine  beside  the  ill  and  dying  in  distant  homes — to  fulfil 
every  rule  of  obligation,  and  every  law  of  love  ? 

The  chords  of  the  instrument  had  just  ceased  to  sound, 
and  the  attentive  audience  were  about  to  solicit  a  repetition 
of  the  mellow  and  bewitching  strains,  when  the  tears  which 
Alicia  had  endeavoured  to  repress,  rose  to  her  eyes,  and 
trembled  on  their  lashes.  She  immediately  rose,  and  whis 
pered  to  Blanche  to  take  her  place.  The  laughing  girl 
assented,  for  Blanche,  of  all  things,  loved  most  to  play  and 
sing.  As  her  sister  stole  from  the  room  she,  with  the 
sweetest  possible  naivet£,  laid  hold  of  the  instrument,  and 
sweeping  the  strings  with  the  freedom  of  the  bards  of  old, 
sent  out  a  gushing  and  ever-changing  strain  of  melody 
that  enchanted  all  present.  Meanwhile  the  cheeks  of  the 
player  glowed  with  the  warm  lustre  of  her.  spirit ;  in  her 
eyes,  which  wandered  where  her  fingers  wandered,  but  were 
yet  occasionally  lifted  up,  there  was  the  articulate  speaking 
of  delight.  She  was  in  her  own  element,  the  element  for 
which  she  felt  herself,  if  not  born,  at  least  elected.  There 
was  this  difference  in  the  players, — that  while  the  haugh 
tiest,  proudest  brow,  was  by  these  soul-stirring  strains  made 
to  look  haughtier,  prouder, — while  the  bosom  heaved  and 
the  eye  flashed,  as  if  with  electric  ardour,  and  in  obedience 
to  strains  that  told  of  the  stirring  spirit  of  martial  deeds,  an 
effect  heightened  by  the  dark  moveless  figures  on  that  old 
ancestral  hall, — the  airs  of  Alicia  had  seemed  to  soften 
every  heart,  to  put  off  from  each,  while  they  lasted,  all 
vain-glory,  and  make  each  feel  better,  and  disposed  to 
holier  aspirations.  It  was  the  low,  cool  zephyr  of  the 


THE  HUGUENOT.  69 

skies,  stealing  along  through  a  heated  atmosphere  no 
more  refreshful. 

"  You  play  nobly,"  said  a  venerable  knight  who  sat  near 
the  singer.  "To  hear  such  music  is  worth  leaping  a  mile 
of  ditches." 

"I  do  not  play  for  praise,"  said  Blanche,  "but  for 
amusement." 

"Amusement,  then,  let  it  be,"  rejoined  the  noble; 
"but  amusement,  like  everything  else,  has  its  degrees,  and 
should  therefore  be  credited  with  praise  and  dispraise. 
But  where  is  your  sister,  Alicia?  how  sweet  would  those 
low  tones  be  after  this  excitement?"  In  this  opinion  the 
entire  company  appeared  quietly  to  acquiesce.  This  little 
incident, — these  widely  different  effects,  discovered  the 
characteristics  of  difference  in  the  two  sisters — the  one 
attracting,  winning,  and  keeping  by  force  of  her  native 
gentleness, — the  other  stormy  in  her  movements,  and  com 
pelling  admiration. 

Alicia,  careless  of  applause,  and  with  no  new  joy  to 
gather,  had,  on  leaving  the  great  hall,  sought  the  privacy 
of  her  own  chamber,  conscious  of  an  oppression  which  the 
whole  force  of  her  nature  was  unable  to  throw  off.  Her 
only,  but  all-sufficient  resort,  was  prayer;  and  beneath  the 
eye  of  her  heavenly  Father,  who  seeth  in  secret,  she  poured 
out  her  supplication  for  grace  to  enable  her  to  make  a 
proper  decision  at  this  eventfuL  crisis,  and  to  act  accord 
ingly.  On  rising  from  her  knees,  she  re-opened  the  note 
which  that  morning  she  had  received  from  Annie.  Her 
cheek  for  a  moment  flushed  and  faded  as  she  read;  but  no 
tear  dimmed  her  eye,  nor  did  she  experience  any  faintness 


70  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

of  spirit  in  view  of  the  resolve  she  had  to  execute.  "What 
ever  had  been  her  struggles  in  the  contemplation  of  de 
serting  the  paternal  mansion  to  share  with  the  Huguenots 
their  lot  in  exile,  there  now  followed  a  clear  and  calm 
conviction  that  this  was  the  appointed  will  of  heaven. 

What  Alicia  had  already  heard  from  her  father  and 
lover,  convinced  her  that  longer  concealment  of  the  full 
extent  of  her  faith,  as  far  as  it  differed  with  the  established 
one,  was  neither  desirable  or  possible,  and  for  this  reason 
she  decided  on  availing  herself  of  the  opportunity  now 
offered.  Her  heart  was  elevated  by  its  recent  communion 
with  her  Creator,  and  her  feelings  soothed  even  to  calmness, 
— the  issue  of  that  sacred  courage  which  rises  as  the  waves 
of  trouble  rise,  looking  over  and  above  them  to  the  bright 
light  which  gleams  from  heaven. 

It  was  while  thus  engaged,  that  Annie,  the  daughter  of 
the  Huguenotic  family,  applied,  by  a  timid  and  well^recog- 
nised  tap  at  the  chamber  door,  for  admittance.  Though 
this  was  not  actually  a  concerted  meeting,  Alicia  under 
stood  that  now  was  the  time,  and  this  the  opportunity,  for 
the  concertment  of  the  needed  measures  for  escape,  so  as  to 
join  unobserved  the  Huguenots,  who,  on  the  following  night, 
were  to  take  up  their  march  towards  the  distant  valley  of 
Piedmont.  Having  admitted,  and  then  again  made  f/ist 
the  door,  Alicia  bade  her  companion  to  communicate  what 
ever  she  further  knew,  in  addition  to  the  contents  of  the 
note  received  that  morning.  The  peasant  girl  in  answer, 
described  the  plans  that  had  successively  been  .proposed 
and  rejected  in  the  counsels  of  the  Huguenots.  There 
still  continued  amongst  them,  however,  but  one  opinion, 


THE  HUGUENOT.  71 

namely,  that  they  should  leave  the  vale  in  advance  of  the 
time  decreed  by  the  government  for  their  departure.  It 
was  well  known  that  powerful  emissaries  from  Italy  were 
now  at  work  in  attempting  to  induce  the  French  govern 
ment  to  carry  out  against  them  the  utmost  rigours  of  the 
law.  There  was,  in  short,  every  reason  for  their  speedy 
escape  from  the  soil  of  France — banishment  from  which 
could  by  no  possible  means  within  their  control  be  eventu 
ally  prevented. 

The  interchange  of  mutual  grief  between  these  two 
confidants,  might,  if  witnessed,  have  affected  others  than 
themselves ;  the  peasant  girl,  indeed,  had  little  that  she 
did  not  carry  with  her :  a  pure  and  guileless  heart,  that 
still,  continued  trustfully  to  hope,  and  all  that  delightful 
freshness  of  spirit,  which  to  scenes  the  most  sterile  and 
severe,  can  impart  its  own  warm,  enchanting  hues. 

"  The  night  wanes,"  said  Alicia,  as  the  hands  of  the 
porcelain-cased  clock  over  the  boudoir,  pointed  to  the  hour 
of  eleven.  It  was  then  time  that  they  should  part.  A  few 
moments  from  this  Annie  was  in  her  own  room. 

' 
sift* 


72  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


"  Fair  be  the  memory  of  that  dreamy  valley. 
I  go  I  I  go! — and  must  mine  image  fade 
From  the  green  spots  wherein  my  childhood  played, 

By  my  own  streams? 
A  boon,  a  talisman,  a  memory  give 
To  shrine  my  name  in  hearts  where  I  would  live, 
For  evermore." 

F.  HEMANS. 


MORNING  is  beautiful  in  every  land.  That  which  on  the 
morrow  rose  over  the  valley  of  the  Huguenots — for  so  it 
has  ever  since  been  recognised  in  the  annals  of  tradition — 
was  impregnated  with  a  delicious  mildness.  The  restful 
clouds  wore  the  deeptest  tint  of  autumn;  a  countless  mul 
titude  of  flowers  yielded  up  their  fragrance  with  the  dew; 
the  birds  chirped  their  merriest  notes :  they,  indeed,  had 
received  no  warning  to  flee  away  !  The  golden  light  as  it 
rose  on  the  extended  region  of  woodland,  that  made  and 
still  makes  the  chief  charm  of  this  secluded  province, 
chequered  the  foliage  with  a  changeful  brilliancy,  that, 
without  violence,  might  be  compared  to  the  spangled 
surface  of  the  ocean's  moving  waves.  This  light  soon 
reached  the  high  dewy  grass  beneath,  and  then  began  to 
peer  into  every  dim  recess,  leaving  the  space  more  dark 
which  had  resisted  its  gentle  influence  ! 

Alicia  at  an  early  hour,  and  while  few  in  the  chateau 
were  yet  astir,  partook  of  a  light  breakfast,  and  imme- 


THE  HUGUENOT.  73 

diately,  without  acquainting  any  one  of  her  intention, 
equipped  herself  for  a  walk.  With  hurried  steps  she 
gained  the  park  gate.  There  assuring  herself  that  she 
had  not  been  watched,  she  drew  her  crimson  hood  over  her 
face,  and  took  the  path  leading  to  the  valley.  Not  a 
breath  was  stirring ;  not  a  sound  to  disturb  the  stillness 
but  the  birds  as  they  flew  from  tree  to  tree  with  their 
sweet  song,  and  the  kingfisher  as  he  swept  over  the  stream 
in  search  of  prey.  Alicia  was  not  long  in  reaching  the 
minister's  cottage.  Putting  aside  the  encircling  vines 
about  its  gate,  she  touched  the  latch  and  entered.  Her 
pastor's  benevolent  face  instantly  assumed  a  smile  of  inex 
pressible  joy  at  the  sight  of  her,  whom  he  had  fondly 
named  the  pet  of  his  flock. 

"And  what  is  your  decision?"  These  were  the  first 
words  spoken.  They  were  the  words  of  deepest  import. 
The  pastor  had  scarce  need  to  propound  the  inquiry,  for 
while  uttering  it  he  read  in  the  expression  of  the  counte 
nance  of  Alicia  the  answer  which  he  sought,  and  imme 
diately  added :  "  Have  you  counted  the  cost  ?" 

"  The  cost,"  said  Alicia,  "is  more  to  me  than  any  trea 
sures  that  the  earth  can  show ;  yet  would  I  obey  the  voice 
Divine,  and  follow  the  Lamb  whithersoever  he  goeth." 

"  God  in  Heaven  bless  you,  my  sweet  child,"  exclaimed 
the  old  man ;  "I  see  you  have  reflected  and  intend  to  act 
on  the  grounds  which  we  considered  in  our  last  conference. 
Henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  you  a  crown  of  life  which 
God,  the  righteous  judge,  will  give  you  at  the  last  day." 

"That  day  may  not  be  distant,"  said  his  companion  in 

7 


74  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

her  tenderest  tones,  "for  my  heart  is  already  heavy  with 
the  dews  of  grief. ' ' 

"  There  is  a  dawn,  there  is  a  sunshine  for  souls  seek 
ing  after  truth,"  exclaimed  the  aged  pastor,  using  that  meta 
phorical  and  yet  energetic  style  of  language  so  characteris 
tic  of  the  Huguenots.  "Error  with  its  false  brilliancy 
dazzles,  and  then  darkens  evermore." 

The  old  man  became  absorbed  with  this  one  thought,  and 
ceased  to  speak. 

The  cottage  door  again  opened  and  closed.  Alicia  de 
parted  with  a  confidence  more  firm,  though  without  her 
heart  relieved  from  those  emotions  of  intense  anguish  which 
her  present  position,  and  her  supposed  line  of  duty,  had  led 
her  to  adopt.  She  endeavoured  to  reach  the  chateau  as 
unobservedly  as  she  had  left  it ;  but  although  her  path  was 
neither  observed  nor  tracked,  the  excited  suffusion  of  the 
blood  within  her  cheeks  showed  that  her  feelings  had  only 
recently  assumed  their  usually  subdued  character.  It  was 
plain  that  Blanche  on  meeting  her  sister,  had  instantly 
noticed  this;  a  warning  to  Alicia  of  the  necessity  of 
much  watchfulness  and  self-possession  to  elude  the  con 
cerned  though  affectionate  notice  of  her  sister,  who  knew 
every  variation  in  her  ingenuous  countenance  too  well  to 
mistake  the  nature  of  the  feelings  which  might  agitate  her. 
The  Count,  if  he  observed,  failed  to  give  any  token  of  his 
suspicions.  He  appeared,  and  evidently  strove,  to  forget 
whatever  of  painful  thought  had  transpired  on  the  previous 
day ;  indeed,  the  multiform  engagements  allotted  for  this 
present  day,  prevented  any  direct  allusion. 

It  was  midnight  when  a  gleam  of  light  shot  beneath  the 
door  of  Blanche's  apartment,  and  a  light  hand  was  laid 


THE  HUGUENOT.  75 

upon  its  latch.  It  was  Alicia.  Passing  over  to  the  bed 
on  which  lay  her  sister,  she  discovered  her  in  a  peaceful 
slumher.  Yes,  she  slept — slept  as  the  blissful  sleep,  with 
out  a  shadow  on  her  heart,  or  on  her  cheeks  the  traces  of 
a  tear.  For  a  time  Alicia  neither  spoke  nor  moved,  but 
stood  with  her  eyes  riveted  upon  those  beauteous  features, 
from  which  she  read  half  the  history  of  her  childhood ;  of 
the  time  when  they  were  children  playing  in  the  vineyards 
of  the  South  together.  She  now  recalled,  more  powerfully 
than  ever  before,  the  assiduity  and  affection  with  which 
Blanche  had  fulfilled  her  dying  mother's  injunction  respect 
ing  herself — "  She  is  the  youngest,  nurture  her."  She 
had  not  gazed  long  when  she  dropped  on  her  knees,  and 
pressing  the  hand  of  the  unconscious  sleeper,  prayed  that 
Heaven  would  fill  her  heart  with  that  love  which  passeth 
knowledge,  and  assures  of  a  happy  reunion  in  a  better 
country.  She  would  not  wake  her,  for  by  this  her  purpose 
might  receive  an  untimely  delay.  So  she  knelt  silently  in 
prayer,  till  the  dull  sound  of  a  distant  clock  warned  her 
that  the  time  had  come  for  departure.  How  holy  was  that 
place  !  how  solemn  that  parting  scene  !  Heaven,  which  is 
never  wanting  in  its  mercies,  brought  in  that  moment  to 
the  heart  of  Alicia  a  cheerful  resignation  to  its  will ;  and 
imprinting  one  kiss  on  her  sister's  lips,  she  laid  on  the  pil 
low  a  golden  locket  of  remembrance,  and  departed  as  she 
had  come. 

She  had  already  caused  to  be  conveyed  to  the  house  of 

% 
the  pastor  whatever  apparel  she  was  likely  to  need,  and 

nothing  now  remained  but  to  leave,  in  the  faith  of  a  better 
promise,  the  home  of  her  father.  Everywhere  in  the  ch£- 


76  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

teau  was  silence.  As  she  listened  fearfully,  the  clock  in  the 
distant  church-tower  again  tolled  out,  and  over  the  bed 
for  evermore  deserted,  Alicia  bowed  her  face  and  wept. 

To  the  mind  of  the  lovely  Huguenot  how  well  would  the 
words  of  the  poet  then  apply  ! — 

"  But  with  thoughts  eternal,  now 
Gathered  on  her  sober  brow, 
And  in  her  sad  and  tearful  eye, 
Purged  with  heavenly  sanctity, 
What  to  her  were  joy  and  mirth, 
All  the  light  and  love  of  earth !" 

With  one  more  prayer,  and  one  more  sigh,  she  left  her 
room,  glided  timidly  along  the  corridors,  descended  the 
stairway,  and  unfastening  the  garden  door,  found  herself 
beneath  the  open  sky,  and  in  company  with  Annie,  who 
had  there  appointed  to  meet  her. 

It  was  a  lovely  night ;  the  air  cooled  the  throbbing  tem 
ples  of  the  exiled  one,  and  there  was  something  even  sooth 
ing  in  the  gentle  rustling  of  the  breeze  as  it  swept  over  the 
long  grass,  and  rose  amidst  the  trees. 

"All  things  look  lovely,"  whispered  Annie,  as  the  two 
stept  upon  the  bridge,  the  first  moment  she  had  ventured 
to  give  voice  to  her  thoughts — "  I  have  heard  we  shall  have 
sweeter,  more  beautiful  nights  in  the  foreign  land." 

"  There  is  a  night  of  the  soul,  Annie,  into  which  the  light 
of  heaven  does  not  enter ;  in  which  nothing  is  seen,  and 
nothing  known.  Yet  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  us 
all  the  days  of  our  life,  and  we  will  dwell  in  the  house  of 
the  Lord  for  ever." 


THE  HUGUENOT.  77 

Midway  on  the  opposite  ascent,  Alicia  obtained  a  last  look 
of  her  secluded  home — a  look  that  made  her  heart  again 
throb,  and  her  tears  to  flow.  It  was  but  a  glimpse ;  and  the  two 
resumed  their  way,  only  stopping  again  when  another  hour 
chimed  out.  On  approaching  the  pastor's  home,  Alicia 
instantly  fancied  that  she  heard  the  clang  of  arms  within. 
It  was  more  than  a  fancy;  for  on  entering,  she  beheld 
their  pastor's  usually  quiet  room  half  filled  Avith  armed 
men,  with  whom  were  grouped  their  wives  and  daughters. 
The  sight  impressed  her  with  the  anticipated  danger  of  the 
sudden  evacuation,  without,  however,  lessening  her  reso 
lution.  Every  countenance  was  care-worn,  though  there 
was  exhibited  but  little  of  that  despondency  which  the 
circumstances  might  have  been  supposed  to  induce.  The 
pastor  went  with  whispered  messages  of  strength  to  each 
one  of  the  company,  and  was  about  asking  a  blessing  on 
the  enterprise.  Deliberation  had  ceased;  the  time  for 
action  had  arrived.  The  summons  was  ringing  in  each  ear, 

"  What  thou  doest,  do  quickly." 

The  tramp  of  hoofs  without  the  gate  was  the  signal  for 
departure ;  and  no  sooner  was  this  known,  than  the  taper 
that  had  hitherto  burned  was  extinguished — all  was  instant 
darkness. 

The  door  opened,  and  slowly  the  whole  company  passed 
out.  Alicia  pressed  close  to  the  side  of  Annie.  The  pastor, 
supported  on  either  side  by  two  stern  men,  was  the  last  to 
leave  that  place  of  years. 

7* 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


"The  day  is  lowering — stilly  black: 
Sleeps  the  grim  wave,  while  Heaven's  rack 
Dispersed  and  wild,  'twixt  earth  and  sky, 
Hangs  like  a  shattered  canopy  1 
There,  rolled  in  masses  dark  and  swelling, 
As  proud  to  be  the  thunder's  dwelling : 
Whilst  some,  already  burst  and  riven, 
Seem  melting  down  the  verge  of  heaven." 


IT  was  in  the  month  of  October,  1523,  that  this  party 
of  refugees  gained  the  borders  of  France.  Vineyards, 
meadows,  and  groves  were  exchanged  for  bleak  and  deso 
late  plains,  on  the  extreme  verge  of  which  mountains, 
whitened  by  snow,  rose  like  the  spectres  of  ages.  By  night 
they  were  able  to  encamp  at  the  base  of  these  lofty  piles — 

"  Whose  most  attenuated  element  is  fit 
For  angel  musings ;  and  their  snow-white  copes 

For  angel  rovings." 

0 

The  excited  group  beheld  in  these  Alpine  barriers,  the 
portals  of  a  temple  wherein  the  spirit  might  worship  the 
Creator  of  its  days  without  weariness  or  oppression.  Now, 
for  the  first  time  since  their  departure,  they  felt  assured  of 
an  entire  severance  from  their  enemies.  Many  an  inquiring 
look  had  they  cast  back  in  their  wayward  journey,  under 
the  suspicion  of  pursuit. 

It  was  evening  when  their  feet  first  touched  the  gigantic 
ranges  whose  mightiness  was  to  be  their  present  deliver- 


THE  HUGUENOT.  79 

ance,  and  to  prevent  their  final  extinction.  They  properly, 
therefore,  considered  this  evening  as  an  eventful  one.  The 
children,  wearied  with  fatigue,  were  soon  lulled  to  rest ; 
and  then  the  gathered  company,  with  the  venerable  pastor 
in  their  midst,  sang  what,  with  equal  justice  and  beauty, 
might  be  termed  "a  new  song."  Elevated  by  devotional 
enthusiasm,  they  closed  with  the  TE  DEUM,  that  most 
sublime  anthem,  commencing  with  the  words — 

"  We  praise  thee,  0  Grod  ;  we  acknowledge  thee  to  be  the 
Lord!" 

Never  in  the  history  of  the  Church  had  this  pious 
hymn,  consecrated  by  the  breath  of  ages,  whether  from 
the  lips  of  kings  or  peasants,  been  expressed  with  more 
hallowed  fervour.  Like  a  voice  of  promise,  it  made  glad 
the  solitary  heart  of  each  pilgrim  with  the  assurance  of  a 
high  protecting  power. 

In  this  instance  the  Huguenots  had  departed  from  the 
minor  formularies  of  their  new  ritual ;  for  in  excess  of  zeal, 
or  because  misled  by  a  prudential  motive  for  a  more  strict 
distinguishment,  they  had  avoided  whatever  the  established 
Church  had  appropriated  to  herself.  The  written  word  was 
almost  the  sole  text-book  of  the  Huguenots,  and  the  con 
stant  grafting  of  its  language  into  their  conversation, 
showed  how  diligently  they  had  conned  its  pages. 

Morning  had  far  advanced,  when  the  company  put  itself 
again  in  motion.  New  preparations  were  now  requisite 
for  travelling  safely  the  narrow  passes  of  the  mountains. 
The  baggage  mules,  which  were  attended  by  the  most 
athletic  of  the  company,  took  the  lead ;  then  those  which 
bore  the  devoted  Huguenotic  women  and  their  children.  In 


80  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

company  with  these  last,  Alicia  had  quickly  become 
a  favourite,  for  her  gentle  tone  and  kindly  manner,  which 
insinuated  themselves  at  once  into  the  heart.  Most  of 
the  men  followed  on  foot:  each  one  holding  in  his  hand 
a  staff  pointed  with  iron,  serving  thus  to  make  the  footing 
more  secure.  There  was,  however,  little  danger  to  be 
apprehended. 

In  a  few  hours  the  entire  file  had  entered  fairly  within 
the  limits  of  the  Alps.  With  that  exquisite,  poetic  sensi 
bility,  for  which  the  French  are  so  deservedly  distin 
guished,  all  were  conscious  that  they  had  now  entered 
amidst  that  scenery,  which  is  at  once  the  delight  and 
wonder  of  the  world.  Constant  exclamations  of  surprise 
discovered  how  great  was  their  delight  at  the  variety  pre 
sented.  At  the  base  of  a  deep  ravine  rushed  a  foaming 
torrent,  the  tortuous  windings  of  which  evinced  its  strength, 
though  it  was  at  too  great  a  depth  to  send  up  audible 
sounds.  Above  them,  continually,  were  still  higher  ranges, 
and  above  these  were  the  blue,  blue  heavens,  into  which 
eye  could  not  but  desire  to  look. 

The  first  day's  journey  was,  in  respect  to  themselves, 
one  of  the  most  complete  solitude :  for  they  had  pur 
posely  chosen  an  almost  neglected  pass.  How  strangely 
did  the  shadows  of  the  next  evening  come !  All  paused 
instinctively,  and  without  bidding,  as  the  muleteers  took 
up  their  evening  song.  This  song  was  such  as  could 
scarcely  consist  with  the  existence  of  any  saddening 
thoughts — clear,  harmonious,  and  transporting.  With 
thick  darkness  the  vast  and  dizzy  chasms  were  quickly 
filling ;  the  sky  seemed  to  stoop  to  absorb  the  weight  of 


THE  HUGUENOT.  81 

rocks  suspended  over  them ;  and  there  was  heard  for  the 
first  time  a  hollow  murmur,  like  that  of  subterranean 
waters.  Nor  was  there  wanting  a  charming  variety  in 
the  after  days  of  this  strange  pilgrimage.  The  ever- 
varying  tints  of  the  sky,  the  mists  which  in  a  thousand 
forms  wove  themselves  together,  the  dark  pines  girding 
like  a  sea  each  solitary  mountain  pile,  and  the  swooping 
eagles  joying  in  the  glorious  liberty  of  their  nature,  all 
these  belonged  to,  and  made  a  portion  of  the  scene. 

The  second  day  passed  as  had  the  first.  On  the  third 
day,  the  cavalcade  had  scarce  been  set  in  motion  when  it 
was  compelled  to  come  to  a  sudden  halt.  The  experienced 
muleteers  had  discerned  in  a  sky  that  seemed  to  others 
calm  and  cloudless,  signs  of  a  coming  storm ;  and  one  of 
those  storms  which  make  up  the  romance  as  well  as  the 
danger  of  the  Alps. 

"It  will  be  terrific,"  muttered  the  main  guide,  an  old 
and  gray-haired  man,  whose  frame  trembled  as  he  spoke, 
not  indeed  with  age,  or  fear  for  himself,  but  for  those 
delicate  women,  over  whom  it  would  sweep  as  mercilessly  as 
over  the  rocks  that  bared  themselves  as  if  made  but  for  the 
endurance  of  elemental  wrath.  The  tidings  went  from  ear 
to  ear,  from  mouth  to  mouth,  like  a  wind  that  passes  over 
waving  corn,  bowing  each  heart  with  apprehension. 

The  party  were  in  a  narrow  gorge,  the  steep  declivities 
of  which  so  far  from  affording  any  protection,  threatened 
to  cast  down  at  the  first  attack,  their  incumbent  load  of 
snow.  Birds  unobserved  before,  flew  out  from  their  hiding- 
places,  screaming  and  fluttering  in  terror.  In  the  dis 
tance  the  skies  became  involved  in  gloom,  from  the  midst 


82  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

of  which  would  every  instant  start  and  rise  like  sheeted 
ghosts,  volumes  of  snow  which  the  approaching  whirlwind 
had  detached  and  was  dispersing.  And  then  was  heard 
the  pealing  thunder,  followed  by  terrific  flashes  of  forked 
lightning. 

But  as  yet  the  air  in  the  narrow  gorge  was  still ;  and 
but  for  the  screaming  birds  and  the  ghostly  splendours  of 
the  sky,  and  the  doleful  sweep  of  rising  winds — there  was 
nothing  immediate  to  alarm  the  senses.  By  the  direction 
of  the  guide,  to  whose  superior  experience  they  had  from 
the  first  committed  themselves — the  women  and  children 
dismounted,  as  quickly  as  possible.  Stakes  were  then 
driven  into  the  ground,  and  to  these  the  mules  in  pairs 
were  fastened.  The  baggage  wagons  were  so  arranged  as 
to  afford  the  utmost  protection  possible  to  those  who  might 
seek  shelter  behind  them.  These  arrangements  had 
scarcely  been  completed  when  the  storm,  heralded  by  a 
magnificent  outburst  of  lightning,  broke  over  them  as  it 
hurried  by  in  all  its  terrors.  It  was  now  in  the  imagina 
tion  of  each  one — for  so  the  Huguenots  afterwards  de 
scribed  it, — as  though  the  foundations  of  the  earth  were 
shaken,  and  its  pillars  were  trembling  at  the  voice  of  the 
Creator. 

Not  a  word  could  be  exchanged  between  the  travellers. 
Alicia  had  instinctively  nestled  by  the  pastor  while  holding 
to  her  throbbing  heart  one  of  the  babes  which,  as  she  rode, 
she  had  tended.  The  storm  had  continued  with  unabated 
fury  for  the  space  of  an  hour,  when  a  voice  was  heard 
shouting  from  the  rocks  above ;  seeming,  in  the  pauses  of 
those  terrific  gusts,  to  hold  the  language  of  encourage- 


THE  HUGUENOT.  83 

ment.  It  was  the  voice  of  the  guide ;  he  had  chanced, 
though  almost  too  late,  to  recall  to  his  recollection  a  retreat 
close  by,  which  many  years  before  had  afforded,  in  similar 
straits,  the  needed  protection  to  a  party  of  travellers.  The 
muleteers  were  not  long  in  comprehending  him,  and  one 
by  one  the  Huguenots  mounted  a  few  feet  of  rugged  pre 
cipitous  rock,  flanked  securely  on  both  sides  by  almost 
perpendicular  rocks.  The  ascent  was  short ;  at  its  highest 
point  they  beheld  below  them  the  mouth  of  a  cave. 

Never  was  protection  from  the  elements  more  welcome. 
As  they  followed  the  guide  within,  the  darkness  became 
deeper  and  deeper,  till  suddenly  a  bright  light  beamed  out 
before  them;  which  became  stronger  as  they  proceeded. 
In  a  short  while,  all  found  themselves  ushered  into  an  im 
mense  amphitheatre,  half  roofed  with  rock,  on  the  sides 
of  which  hung  trailing  plants  and  countless  galaxies  of 
flowers.  Far  away,  in  the  opposite  direction  to  that  which 
they  had  entered,  and  far  above  them,  peered  in,  like  hope 
upon  despair,  a  patch  of  clear  blue  sky.  To  many  of  the 
simple  villagers — if  villagers  they  could  be  longer  deemed 
— the  phenomenon  was  incomprehensible;  the  prattling 
children  were  silent,  supposing,  no  doubt,  that  they  had 
entered  some  new  world ;  and  when  the  guide  explained 
that  the  huge  bastion  into  which  all  were  now  drawn,  lay 
between  two  separate  climes,  was  in  fact  the  outer  wall 
of  that  vast  mountain  kingdom,  the  oldest  could  not  re 
frain  from  expressions  of  surprise. 

"If  God  hath  so  beautified  this  cavern  of  darkness," 
exclaimed  the  aged  pastor,  "and  hath,  together  with  its 
beauty,  made  of  it  a  place  of  refuge,  will  he  not,  also,  be 


as  rich  and  free  in  those  gifts  which  go  to  bless  bis  people  ? 
yea,  to  this  afl  tike  saints  on  earth  and  angels  in  heaven 


These  words  were  spoken  in  that  quiet  and  solemn  tone 
which  prepare  tike  heart  to  listen,  and  in  that  listening, 
brings  eonriction.  Immediately  the  pilgrims  took  up  one 
of  their  sweetest  songs,  and  in  that  place  of  silence,  the 
•JfllaiM  of  which  was  only  broken  by  tike  Basses  of  snow 
which  were  fang  like  biDows  all  around,  they  praised  the 
goodness  which  had  led  !•<•,  and  which  they  believed 
-:--\  --I!  rr ::*;-:  tirii. 

The  storm  passed  off  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come:  the 
glide,  who  knew  its  daration  by  its  strength,  frequently 
wart  oat  to  descry  the  first  signs  of  its  abatement.  Soon 
a  fV»«ftf«*  heaven  invited  aD  to  journey  on. 

"Where  shall  we  find  rest,  my  father?"  said  Alicia  as 
she  cmciyd  from  the  care,  holding  in  fear,  the  hand  of 
the  TenrraMe  pastor — with  whom  that  title,  expressive  of 
Teneration  and  IOYC,  was  not  unfamiliar.  ••  I  ask  this  not 
for  my  sake  but  for  your  own,"  continued  Alicia. 

••  I  am  indeed  grieved,"  said  the  old  man,  wholly  for 
getful  o£  or  TrrmMriir'ffg  the  icfacncc  this  question  had  to 
hisaiii  If — to  his  own  fatigue,  with  which  Alicia  sincerely 
sympathized — "I  am  indeed  griered  at  the  sufferings  of 
my  people,  and  would  to  Heaven,  that  these  were  now 
ended.  I  know  not  how  long  we  may  be  doomed  to  travel 
in  thrnr  mountain  fastnesses ;  many  a  weary  league,  doubt- 
lir-..  --.-.  '.-,•-  '.,-7.:.  :  -:-. 

"•  The  spot  m  about  two  days'  journey  hence,"  responded 
their  guide,  in  rough,  but  neither  unwelcome  or  obtrusive 


THE  HUUUK80T.  * : 

tones;  mad  seeing  that  Alicia  and  the  pastor  cartoned 
attentive,  he  added:  "and  a  right  quiet  and 
•pot  h  is.  It  is  just  visible  from  tne  end  of  our  g 
route,  and  is  half  covered  with  wood,  and  cascade!  shoot 
down  its  sides.  In  the  centre  rises  a  knoD  of  laud, 
the  very  spot  OB  which  to  build  a  church.  I  can  just 
imagine,  too,  how  pleasant  it  would  be  to  hear  a  befl  toHmg 
there  every  mom  and  every  evening:  how  it  would  ring 
amidst  the  sofitodes.  so  fcigh  and  bare,  that  skirt  the  basin 
round,  with  a  homelike,  a  rejoicing  sound.  Not  that  I 
would  often  hear  it,"  continued  the  muleteer,  "but  that 
to  others  it  might  gire  joy.  However,  h  was  but  a  i 
thought,  and  now  the  thought  is  told, 
too,  on  that  airy  woodland  din^  woold  they  not  gfcam  beau 
tifully,  when  lighted  from  within  I" 

The  guide,  as  if  half  inhimfd  to  kare  given  ssek  vait 
to  his  ideas  and  feelings,  ideas  and  feelings  almost  ex- 
toned  by  the  gentleness  and  open  heartedness  of  his 
Lr  .:-:-.  ;:rv5i-  i.  11:^7  Lii^'j  :  :^:.:  '.  :  : : .:.  :_r  ii~^i.:^i 
body. 

On  the  evening  of  the  eighth  day.  and  from  a  lofty  ledge 
of  rocks,  the  Huguenots  descried  the  vaDey  of  Piedmont, 
the  vale  which  the  guide  had  so  entfammsticaliy  dwelt 
upon.  Though  the  Huguenots  had  not  sought  ft  out  fur 
earthly  beaut-  oM  not  gaze  on  the  lovely  panorama 

without  praise,  and  an  emotion  of  joy,  hugbKmcd  by  the 
aumiance  that  they  there  uuu»uu»iui  lasting  and  peaceful 
possession.  The  hills  of  perpetual,  though  not  of  un- 
douded  beauty  which  girded  it.  might  well  foster  the  spirit 
of  devotion.  None,  they  felt,  could  live  amidst  them,  and 
not  feel  their  thoughts  continually  led  up  to  Heai 

I 


86  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

Beautiful  was  the  sunset  light,  as  it  poured  down  upon 
that  valley,  and  sweet  the  mellow  radiance  as,  tint  by 
tint,  it  died  away.  The  mountain-tops  around  shone  out 
with  splendour,  long  after  all  was  dark  and  unseen  below  j 
separated  from  the  earth,  those  snowy  summits  seemed 
part  of  the  bright  pavements  of  the  heavens ;  and  one 
excited  by  imagination,  might  have  in  it  looked  for  choirs 
of  angels  moving  to  and  fro,  or  engaged  in  bright  and 
calm  communion. 

The  dawn  of  day  beheld  the  entire  party  descending  a 
dry  and  steep  gorge,  which,  with  many  abrupt  changes  in 
its  course,  led  to  their  purchased  possessions  far  below. 
Their  faithful  guides  had  set  out  on  return  still  earlier,  yet 
not  till  they  had  been  well,  nay,  considering  the  limited 
resources  of  the  Huguenots,  even  munificently  rewarded. 
At  the  parting  there  were,  of  course,  mutual  expressions 
of  regret. 

The  Huguenots,  on  the  departure  of  the  guides,  with 
this  last  link  of  connexion  broken  up,  felt  still  more 
strongly  their  isolation,  and,  except  amidst  themselves, 
their  utter  loneliness. 

The  establishment  of  this  colony  in  a  new  and  untried 
region,  is  a  matter  of  history.  To  trace,  therefore,  its 
early  struggles — its  many  adversities — the  dawn  of  assured 
prosperity — its  final  abandonment  for  a  yet  more  remote, 
a  more  secluded  spot, — is  the  work  of  other  pens.  Enough 
that  no  disastrous  chances  ever  wholly  thwarted  the  pure 
designs  of  its  founders ;  that,  if  it  seldom  obtained  acces 
sions  to  its  membership,  it  retained  its  inborn  strength. 

If  a  love  of  retirement  and  security  had  an  influence  in 


THE  HUGUENOT.  87 

determining  the  choice  of  this  spot,  it  was  for  a  length  of 
time  completely  gratified.  The  bold  and  precipitous  crags 
that  rose  round  defied  pursuit,  able  as  they  were  to  defend 
with  a  small  body  of  equipped  men  the  pass  by  which  only 
it  was  accessible.  And  even  the  existence  of  that  pass 
was  a  secret,  communicated  to  them  by  their  guides,  the 
honesty  and  trustworthiness  of  whom,  sustained  immacu 
lately  as  this  character  had  been  from  generation  to  gene 
ration,  could  not  be  doubted. 

The  guarding  of  the  pass  was  a  very  easy  matter,  there 
fore,  and  when  accomplished,  the  entire  colony  turned  at 
once  to  those  pursuits  which  might  provide  them  subsistence 
and  comfort.  The  soil  proved  good  and  fertile ;  and,  as 
again  the  season  of  the  reapers  came,  the  earth,  that  with 
rude  means  of  husbandry  they  had  tilled,  afforded  a  sufficient 
yield  to  save  them  from  the  necessity  of  ever  sending  in 
quest  of  foreign  supply.  In  process  of  time,  neat  and  sub 
stantial  cottages  arose ;  for  the  Huguenots,  being  skilled 
in  every  kind  of  handicraft,  were  enabled  to  use  to  the  best 
advantage  whatever  material  was  presented  on  which  to 
work.  Presently,  on  the  knoll  first  pointed  out  by  the 
guide,  rose  a  simple  church,  in  which  their  prayers  and 
praises  daily  resounded.  It  had  no  spire,  and  was  com 
pletely  hid  in  a  luxuriant  ambush  of  trees.  It  was  a  pic 
turesque  sight  to  see  the  groups  wending  up  towards  it  by 
a  shelving  path,  or  coming  from  it  with  their  faces  informed 
with  the  teachings  of  the  word.  Occasionally  a  chamois- 
hunter  on  the  heights  above,  would  startle  them  from  their 
re  very  of  happiness ;  but  as  the  air  closed  again  upon  his 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

rapid  path,  or  the  report  of  a  single  gun  died  away,  assu 
rance  would  return,  and  they  would  smile  at  their  own  fears. 

Alicia  was  charmed  with  the  new  abode ;  and  notwith 
standing  many  tearful  regrets  for  the  home  of  her  father — 
a  home  to  her  now  no  more — she  readily  adapted  herself 
to  the  exigencies  of  new  circumstances,  selecting  as  her 
employment  the  education  of  the  young  children. 

Then,  and  not  till  then,  were  the  heights  and  depths  of 
her  character  fully  developed.  Powers  of  endurance  and 
self-denial  that,  had  she  remained  in  her  father's  halls, 
might  ever  have  slumbered  unobserved,  now  shone  in  sur 
passing  beauty.  Cheerfully  and  unmurmuringly  she  en 
dured  her  share  of  the  privations  to  which  the  little  band 
were  exposed.  Indeed,  the  secluded  glens  of  that  isolated 
valley  witnessed  scenes  exhibiting,  in  hundreds  of  instances, 
the  noblest  traits  of  human  character. 


THE  HUGUENOT.  89 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

"  Of  her  spirit's  grief 

She  never  spoke.    But  as  the  flush  of  health 
Receded  from  her  cheek,  her  patient  eye 
Gathered  new  lustre ;  and  the  mighty  wing 
Of  that  supporting  angel  seemed  to  gird 
Closer  her  languid  bosom." 

L.  SiaOUKlTBT. 

"Joy!  for  the  peasant,  when  his  vintage  task 

Is  closed  at  eve !    But  most  of  all  for  her, 

Who,  when  her  life  had  changed  its  glittering  robes 

For  the  dull  garb  of  sorrow,  which  doth  cling 

So  heavily  around  the  journeyers  on, 

Cast  down  its  weight,  and  slept." 

.  F.  HEMANS. 

SOON  after  this  settlement  of  the  Huguenots,  Alicia  em 
braced  an  opportunity  of  addressing  a  letter  to  her  father, 
in  explanation  of  the  cause  of  her  deserting  her  home  and 
those  so  dear  to  her ;  beseeching,  too,  his  forgiveness,  and 
begging  him  at  least  to  remember  her  kindly,  and  let  her 
name  be  still  a  household  word.  The  time  arrived  which 
she  hoped  would  bring  an  answer  from  France.  With 
trembling  anxiety  she  waited ;  but  she  waited  long  in  vain. 
Month  after  month  went  by,  and  then,  0  joy  !  a  letter  was 
handed  her  in  the  well-known  handwriting  of  her  father. 
It  had  on  it  the  Paris  post-mark,  at  which  she  cast  an  eager 
glance  of  recognition.  Deeply  as  her  interest  was  excited, 
she  yet  felt  it  was  the  first  token  of  an  endless  separation — 
the  first  lines  from  one  whose  anger  she  was  prepared  to 
abide,  if  conditional  on  the  retainment  of  her  present  faith. 
Hastily  retiring  to  a  spot  where  she  might  be  unobserved, 

8* 


90  TKUTH  AND  FANCY. 

she  drew  the  letter  from  her  bosom,  and  cast  one  more 
look  upon  that  dear  familiar  -writing :  her  temples  throbbed, 
and  her  heart  beat  rapidly.  It  was  some  moments  before 
her  trembling  fingers  could  break  the  seal.  When  she  did 
so,  her  most  sad  conjectures  were  confirmed — her  own 
letter  was  returned.  This  was  enough.  She  closed  her 
eyes  for  a  few  minutes  as  if  in  prayer :  thus  gathering 
strength,  she  took  courage  to  read  the  few  sentences  trans 
mitted  ;  they  were  brief  and  harsh,  and  read  thus : — 
•  "  For  the  last  time  I  address  one  who  so  far  forgot  her 
birth  as  to  disgrace  the  name  of  her  family,  by  communion 
with  a  set  of  ignoble  heretics.  I  never  can  forget  the  insult 
,of  a  child  who  left  her  home  clandestinely." 

"Cast  off!"  faintly  escaped  the  lips  of  Alicia,  as  she 
crushed  the  missive  in  her  fingers. 

From  the  moment  that  Alicia  read  those  cruel  lines,  a 
marked  change  was  visible  in  her  health.  Her  manner  be 
came  languid,  and  her  varying  colour  was  followed  by  an 
unnatural  paleness.  In  the  mean  time,  winter  came  on  in 
its  most  severe  and  boisterous  form.  Alicia,  whose  spirits 
were  as  precarious  as  her  health,  was  forced  to  abandon  her 
visits  to  the  surrounding  cottages.  She  herself  seemed  at 
first  unconscious  of  any  change,  and  continued  quietly  busy 
in  her  appointed  task  of  teaching  ;  but  the  time  came  when 
her  frame  was  too  weak  to  escape  her  own  notice.  The 
sure  symptoms  of  that  complaint  which  though  slow  is 
sure,  were  rapidly  gaining  ground.  On  her  cheeks  there 
presently  appeared  those  signs  known  to  those  who  have 
watched  the  progress  of  consumption.  Her  increasing 
weakness  at  length  alarmed  all ;  devoted  friends  observed 


THE  HUGUENOT.  91 

that  she  became  thinner  and  paler  from  day  to  day;  that 
all  but  the  cheerful  sweetness  of  her  smile  was  gone. 
Yet  as  her  body  drooped,  her  spirit  became  more  heavenly, 
and  the  expression  of  her  face  increased  in  interest  and 
beauty.  Never  was  the  record  of  a  holy  character  and  holy 
life  more  plainly  read,  than  on  that  lovely  countenance, 
where  peace  and  love  seemed  to  have  met  together.  She 
seemed  to  have  no  anxiety  but  to  obtain,  before  departure, 
reconciliation  with  those  whose  memory  she  so  dearly 
cherished  in  her  exile.  She  at  length  determined  to  ap 
peal  once  more  to  her  father,  and  accordingly  wrote  the 
following  letter,  which  she  accompanied  with  a  few  lines  to 
the  Count,  her  lover,  with  a  request  that  he  would  use  his 
influence  in  gaining  for  the  letter  she  confided  to  his  care, 
a  perusal,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  that  it  was  a  dying 
communication. 

"  MY  BELOVED  FATHER, 

"  The  tone  of  resentment  in  which  you  last  addressed 
me  leaves  me  but  little  hope  of  your  pardon ;  yet  I  feel 
that  I  cannot  die  until  I  again  entreat  your  forgiveness.  I 
will  not  afflict  you  any  more  in  appealing  to  your  compas 
sion,  which  I  might  do  by  describing  the  anguish  your 
letter  gave  me.  In  the  long  night-watches  of  my  illness 
in  this  distant  region  your  angry  image  is  ever  before  me. 
I  would  fain  tell  all  that  is  in  my  heart ;  yet  my  strength 
fails,  and  all  I  have  power  to  do  is  to  entreat  your  for 
giveness,  my  father.  These  are  the  last  lines  your  child 
will  ever  trace.  Except  this  letter,  all  record  of  my  love 
for  you  will  ere  long  perish  in  the  grave.  Your  affec 
tionate  child,  ALICIA." 


92  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

The  cold  of  winter,  the  changeful  season  of  the  spring, 
had  been  followed  by  the  bursting  bud  and  early  blossoms 
of  summer.  The  broad  fields  of  the  Huguenots  lay  smiling 
in  the  sun,  which  lighted  up  with  ever-varying  splendour 
the  beautiful  scenery  of  the  Alps ;  the  trees  were  clothed 
in  green,  and  the  gardens — for  this  pleasure  the  Hugue 
nots  could  not  forego — were  filled  with  flowers.  All  things 
wore  a  look  of  peace  and  beauty,  and  a  reigning  stillness 
heightened  this  expression.  It  was  in  the  afternoon  of  a 
sultry  day,  that  Alicia,  who  seemed  slightly  to  have  revived, 
caused  her  chair  to  be  wheeled  to  the  window  of  the  cot 
tage  which  was  her  abode,  and  which  was  sheltered  by 
dark  and  thick  foliaged  trees,  which  threw  around  it  a 
grateful  shade.  Her  chamber  overlooked  a  good  part  of 
the  surrounding  country ;  its  furniture  was  simple  in  the 
extreme,  but  beautifully  clean  and  neat;  some  simple 
drawings  and  a  tasteful  book-case  hung  against  the  walls. 
The  room  was  not  wanting  in  other  resources  of  enjoy 
ment.  On  a  small  table,  the  polish  of  which  was  hid  from 
view  by  its  simple  covering,  lay  a  few  paintings,  together 
with  an  English  Bible,  and  several  articles  of  unfinished 
needlework.  Artificial  flowers,  in  slender  jars,  were  set  in 
the  bright  windows. 

Seated  upon  a  low  stool  at  Alicia's  feet  was  a  young 
girl  of  striking  grace  and  beauty.  She  was  at  this  time 
warbling  in  a  low  tone  one  of  the  favourite  airs  of  the  pro 
vince  of  Dauphind;  and  every  now  and  then  turned 
towards  the  sufferer  to  smooth  her  pillow,  or  by  words  of 
kindness  to  soothe  her  shattered  spirits.  It  was  Annie 
Lorraine,  the  early  confidant  and  friend  of  Alicia,  and 


THE  HUGUENOT.  93 

now  her  attentive  and  gentle  nurse.  She  watched  day 
and  night  beside  her  dying  friend,  and  none  could  have 
watched  as  well  as  she.  A  low,  breathing  air  from  off 
the  mountains  entered  by  the  open  lattice.  We  have 
omitted  to  tell  that  the  little  church  too,  endeared  by 
so  many  associations,  could  be  discerned  in  occasional 
glimpses  from  this  spot. 

A  scene  so  beautiful  might  have  produced  its  happiest 
effect  upon  a  mind  less  sad  than  that  of  the  invalid's,  but 
she  was  thinking  how  soon  the  feet  of  the  living  would 
tread  over  her  faded  form.  Notwithstanding  all  the  affec 
tionate  efforts  of  Annie,  she  continued  in  an  abstracted 
mood ;  her  sorrow  was  too  deep  to  be  accessible  to  any 
earthly  consolation. 

Suddenly  Annie  started,  for  on  looking 'without  she  had 
discerned  strange  figures  on  the  loftiest  edge  of  that 
precipitate  path  which  formed  a  key  to  the  Huguenotic 
abode.  Regarding  their  appearance  as  an  extraordinary 
event,  she  communicated  her  wonder  to  Alicia,  who  was 
still  more  surprised.  As  the  two  watched — for  the  sight 
of  Alicia  had  become  piercingly  clear — they  perceived  the 
strangers  hold  a  sort  of  parley  with  the  sentinels  of  the 
pass ;  after  which  they  commenced  an  unobstructed  and 
rapid  descent. 

An  hour  passed  away,  and  the  intruders  had  disappeared 
in  the  purple  gloom  below,  when  suddenly  the  latch  of  the 
garden  gate  was  heard  to  move,  and  two  strangers  entered. 
Annie,  who  conjectured  at  once  who  they  were,  as  well  as 
the  object  of  their  visit,  arose  and  threw  open  the  door  of 
the  chamber.  Another  moment,  and  the  dying  girl  was 


of. 

-      :, 


-    •_       -  ._: 


FLORENCE    DE    EOHAN. 


A  FRAGMENT  FROM  THE  HISTORY  OF  NAPOLEON.* 


CHAPTEK   I. 

"  From  the  bounds  of  truth  careering, 
Man's  strong  spirit  wildly  sweeps, 
With  each  hasty  impulse  veering, 
Down  to  passion's  troubled  deeps, 
And  his  heart  contented  never, 
Chaseth  its  own  dream  for  ever!" 


OF  the  many  dark  and  portentous  events  that  continue 
in  man's  remembrance  in  connexion  with  Napoleon's  won 
derful  career,  there  is  none  on  which  the  historian  has  so 
often  been  called  to  ponder,  as  that  of  the  death  of  the 
Duke  D'Enghien. 

That  the  death  of  the  Duke  D'Enghien  was  as  unde- 

*  In  1804,  the  conspiracy  of  Pichegru  was  detected  by  Napoleon. 
During  the  examination  of  some  of  the  prisoners,  Napoleon  ascertained 
that  a  person  unknown  had  attended  some  of  the  Royalists'  meetings, 
and  was  received  with  great  ceremony  and  respect.  The  description  of 
this  unknown  person,  as  Napoleon  affected  to  believe,  corresponded 
so  well  with  that  of  the  Duke  D'Enghien,  a  son  of  the  Duke  De  Bourbon, 
that  he  ordered  that  prince's  arrest,  and  gave  such  minute  directions  as 
rendered  it  evident  that  his  destruction  was  already  determined.  B. 


100  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

served,  as  it  was  sudden  and  violent,  all  men  know,  and 
know  so  well,  that  the  most  subtle  ingenuity  has  been 
continually  baffled  in  the  endeavour  to  provide  for  this  act 
a  solution  that  may  not  conflict  with  the  most  boundless 
admiration  for  the  hero.  But  the  common  judgment  of 
mankind,  which  seldom  for  any  length  of  time  can  err, 
casting  away  such  sophistry,  has  finally  referred  the  most 
efficient  cause  of  this  deed  to  Napoleon's  fear  that  the 
Duke  D'Enghien  might  ultimately  thwart  his  imperial  pro 
jects.  The  connexion  that  the  life  of  the  Duke  had  with 
Napoleon's  fortunes,  Napoleon  himself  best  could  tell. 
We  will  trace  in  outline  the  historical  position  of  the 

subsequently  appeared  that  the  Duke  had  not  been  at  Paris  at  all,  and 
that  the  stranger  was  no  other  than  Pichegru.  The  Prince  was  ar 
rested  in  his  bed,  on  the  night  of  March  15th,  carried  to  Paris,  and 
lodged  in  the  Castle  of  Vincennes.  Everything  here  was  prepared  for 
his  reception,  and  his  grave  dug.  He  reached  Vincennes  at  7  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  and  was  immediately  summoned  to  attend  the  sitting  of  the 
commission  on  the  spot.  No  evidence  was  brought  against  him  ;  no 
witnesses  were  examined  ;  a  simple  act  of  accusation  was  read  to  him, 
charging  him  with  conspiring  against  France.  The  law  in  such  a  case 
required  that  the  accused  should  be  allowed  counsel ;  but  none  was 
granted,  and  he  was  compelled  at  midnight  to  enter  unaided  on  his  own 
defence,  which  consisted  in  a  simple  and  manly  denial  of  any  criminal 
practice  whatever  on  his  part  towards  the  government  of  France.  He 
earnestly  requested  a  private  audience  with  Napoleon ;  this  was  de 
nied.  They  then  proceeded,  without  a  vestige  of  evidence  against  him, 
to  pronounce  him  guilty,  and  under  the  peremptory  direction  of  Napo 
leon,  previously  delivered,  they  ordered  him  to  immediate  execution ; 
and  in  the  fosse  of  the  castle  he  fell,  pierced  by  seven  balls.  The  start 
ling  intelligence  of  the  bloody  deed  excited  both  terror  and  indignation 
in  every  court  of  Europe,  and  was  loudly  stigmatized  as  a  bloody  and 
needless  murder. — Alison's  History  of  Europe. 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  101 

event  before  bringing  into  view,  and  into  as  orderly  an  ar 
rangement  as  possible,  its  concurrent  incidents  and  circum 
stances.  We  can  do  no  more  ;  these  incidents,  these  cir 
cumstances  can  by  no  possibility  be  blent — they  possess 
neither  unity  nor  fitness.  The  unchecked  development  of 
a  wicked  and  powerful  heart,  like  the  flowing  lava  of  a 
heated  volcano,  can  make  only  waste  and  desolation, — all 
that  is  good  it  isolates.  Yet,  is  its  work  not  wholly  unin 
teresting  :  affection,  love,  devotion,  lifted  high  above  its 
power,  resembling  in  this  the  scattered  stars  of  verdure  on 
the  pale  steeps  of  Etna,  bloom  on  us  with  an  almost  un 
earthly  beauty — the  preachers  of  mortal  constancy  and  of 
spiritual  immortality.  Alas !  as  we  gaze,  the  stems  are 
scorched,  the  flowers  fall,  their  fragrance  ascends  to  heaven, 
and  their  dust  is  scattered  ! 

The  time  of  the  mournful  tragedy  which  constitutes  this 
fragment,  was  when  France,  by  the  success  of  its  arms, 
was  executing  plans  unprecedented  in  their  character. 
Setting  aside  all  common  maxims,  and  rejecting  all 
common  means,  it  had  so  weakened  and  dissolved  powerful 
confederacies,  that  now  Austria  and  England  alone  main 
tained  the  contest.  The  magnitude,  together  with  the 
atrociousness  of  the  deed,  may  be  estimated  by  the  fact, 
that  though  Europe  at  the  period  of  its  occurrence  had 
become  inured  to  scenes  of  blood,  and  could  hear  without 
emotion  of  armies  being  swept  away  in  fewer  days  than 
had  been  required  to  collect  and  equip  them,  yet  limited, 
almost  personal  as  it  was,  it  sent  a  thrill  of  horror  through 
all  the  veins  of  European  society,  and  effected  a  revulsion 

9* 


102 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 


of  feeling  that  has  no  parallel  in  the  moral  annals  of  man 
kind. 

In  this  issue  it  was  that  Napoleon's  character  shone  out 
boldly  and  confessedly  as  the  enemy  of  mankind.  The  steel- 
written  declaration  that  no  innocence,  no  rank,  no  sanctity 
could  render  life  inviolable,  dismayed  even  the  most  active 
promoters  of  the  Revolution,  who  till  now  had  imagined 
that  the  French  nation,  with  an  unexampled  unanimity 
and  perseverance,  had  recovered  at  last  the  long-lost  rights 
of  freedom,  and  that  the  system  of  government  framed 
according  to  their  wishes  was  surely  tending  to  secure 
their  happiness. 

The  tale  of  sorrow  now  to  be  opened  out  cannot,  there 
fore,  want  a  background — a  background,  the  sombre  hue 
of  which  is  only  illumined  by  the  startled  enthusiasm  of 
those  who  would  offer  to  Napoleon  the  highest  worship 
that  mortal  man  can  give  his  fellow,  those  with  whom,  and 
it  is  no  rare  creed, 

"  One  murder  makes  a  villain, 
Millions  a  hero !" 

Just  within  the  boundary  line  of  Austria — whose  exten 
sive,  populous,  and  fertile  provinces  had  excited  at  once 
the  envy  and  jealousy  of  Napoleon — and  on  a  sloping 
plain,  hemmed  in  by  wooded  plantations  and  dotted  by  a 
few  straggling  cottages,  he  and  his  great  army  halted, 
immediately  after  engagement  in  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
battles  that  history  has  recorded.  Brilliant,  but  inglorious ! 
Austria  had  presented  a  noble,  though  useless  opposition. 
The  French  army,  inspired  by  an  almost  supernatural 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  103 

excitement,  and  aided  by  local  circumstances,  had  fully 
evinced  its  own  superiority.  There  was  an  advantage  of 
another  kind  on  which  Napoleon  had  well  and  safely  cal 
culated.  The  dominions  of  the  house  of  Austria  being 
unconnectedly  situated,  a  long  time  was  ne*cessary  for  the 
march  of  Austrian  levies  from  one  extremity  of  the  empire 
to  another.  These  battalions,  too,  being  composed  of  a 
variety  of  nations,  differing  in  manner  and  opposed  in 
interest,  it  was  frequently  as  difficult  a  matter  to  unite  as 
to  collect  them.  The  resources  of  France,  on  the  contrary, 
were  immediately  at  hand ;  its  soldiers  were  united  in  one 
compact  body,  so  closely  concentrated  as  to  admit,  on  this 
account,  of  no  embarrassment.  As  it  was,  the  valour  and 
genius  of  Napoleon  was  adjudged  to  have  won  the  day ; 
and  from  all  the  clamour  and  confusion  common  to  a  noisy 
and  reckless  army,  there  arose  from  this  place  of  encamp 
ment,  clear  and  distinct,  those  ingenuous  ascriptions  of 
praise  on  which  Napoleon  was  wont  to  set  so  high  a  value. 
It  was  evening  as  the  division  sent  in  pursuit  of  strag 
gling  parties  of  the  enemy  drew  itself  up  above  the  base 
of  the  broad  hill.  As  twilight  deepened,  the  battle-field 
close  by  faded  gradually  from  every  eye,  till  again  the 
lighted  camp-fires  brought  portions  into  view,  tenfold  more 
horrible  by  the  heavy  crimson  mist  that  hung  around 
the  flames,  now  made  fantastic  by  sudden  and  furious 
gusts  of  wind.  The  officers  of  the  army,  elated  by  a  success 
that  promised  a  speedy  advancement  in  their  respective 
ranks,  had  relaxed  a  good  deal  of  their  usual  discipline — 
the  extreme  severity  of  which  was,  perhaps,  the  only  ex 
pressed  cause  of  discontent  on  the  part  of  Napoleon's  sol- 


104  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

diers — soldiers  who  followed  him  with  a  half-inspired  devo 
tion,  ready  at  any  moment  to  sacrifice  life,  if  only  they 
might  enhance  his  fame. 

As  though  fierce  passion,  in  all  its  varieties,  had  been 
completely  expended,  the  merry  flow  of  mirth  was  to  be 
heard  in  every  division  of  the  camp.  The  men,  assembled 
in  little  bands,  drank  heartily  to  the  health  of  their  com 
rades.  As  night  wore  on,  the  best  and  idlest  tales,  were 
told,  the  most  wonderful  feats  were  alluded  to  with  evident 
gusto,  each  recital  being  occasionally  heightened  by  a  few 
fictitious  touches,  whilst  all  the  meritorious  deeds  of  the 
dead,  who,  alas  !  could  never  contradict  them,  were  credited 
to  their  own  mighty,  potent,  individual  selves.  It  was 
no  time  for  those  gentle  thoughts,  which  no  deeds  of  blood 
can  ever  effectually  eradicate  from  the  human  heart,  and 
which,  however  pressed  down,  will  yet  always  bloom  again, 
giving  to  the  oppressed  a  respite,  and  to  the  tyrant  a 
season  for  repentance.  Now  and  then  a  few  of  the  loqua 
cious  and  excited  multitude  would  look  sad  and  grave, 
rather  perhaps  from  the  undefined  apprehension  of  retribu 
tion  than  from  the  workings  of  remorse.  Each  one  needed 
rest ;  scarce  one  but  felt  too  excited  to  wish  repose.  One 
regiment  after  another,  however,  dropped  down  exhausted, 
yet  not  to  sleep ;  for  from  where  they  lay  were  heard  une 
quivocally  wide-awake  expressions — the  language  of  men 
wholly  wrought  upon  by  their  inflamed  senses.  The  officers 
of  the  army,  with  their  usual  private  zeal,  took  good  care 
to  ensconce  themselves  in  the  private  dwellings  which  hap 
pened  to  be  situated  at  convenient  distances  on  the  slope. 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  105 

The  best  one  of  these  was,  of  course,  reserved  for  their 
commander. 

We  have  little  to  do  'with  the  external  aspect  of  the 
French  commander's  headquarters.  It  was  simply  a  pile 
of  stone,  of  no  describable  shape  or  form,  but  bearing  un 
erring  marks  of  age  in  the  ivy  that  clung  about  it.  Its 
inhabitants  had  fled  the  previous  night,  and  probably  were 
not  so  much  as  thought  of  in  this  summary  action  of 
possession.  The  light  in  the  second  story  of  the  edifice 
flashed  down  on  two  sentinels  engaged  in  the  mechanical 
operation  of  pacing  to  and  fro  as  guardians  of  the  hallowed 
precincts.  The  interior  of  that  apartment,  only  made 
noticeable  by  the  presence  of  its  transient  guest,  exhibited 
an  extreme  paucity  of  furniture,  such  furniture,  however, 
as  preserved  in  itself  a  memento  of  better  and  richer  times. 
A  high  and  massive  mantel-piece,  rudely  carved,  extended 
over  a  fire,  made  up  of  every  burnable  material  that  could 
be  laid  hold  of.  The  flames  of  this  fire  incessantly  em 
ployed  themselves  in  multiplying  the  shadows  of  three  an 
tique  chairs ;  meanwhile,  on  an  oaken  table,  a  lamp  burned 
with  a  quiet  and  contented  air,  despite  the  gambols  of  the 
shadows  on  the  floor  and  on  the  walls.  Close  by  sat 
Napoleon,  dictating  a  series  of  despatches  to  his  private 
secretary ;  a  task  that  was  no  sooner  got  through  than  the 
secretary  was  dismissed.  Napoleon,  now  rising  up,  threw 
off  the  greater  part  of  his  military  dress,  and  commenced 
pacing  up  and  down  that  large,  open  chamber,  with  a  rest 
less  and  unsatisfied  air :  a  mood  to  be  remarked  in  a  man 
whose  placidity  the  most  alarming  incidents  could  hardly 
ruffle.  At  intervals  his  hand  passed  rapidly  over  his 
I 


106  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

brow,  his  lips  were  compressed,  his  countenance  lost  its 
meaning,  and  his  eyes  their  animation. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  one  of  his  marshals,  sans 
ceremonie,  entered  the  apartment,  and  observing  that  Na 
poleon  was  struggling  with  apparently  opposite  emotions, 
determined  to  divert  his  attention.  With  a  celerity  that 
might  have  done  honour  to  a  courtier,  he  referred  to  the 
advantages  sure  to  recur  from  the  late  conflict.  His  com 
panion,  with  that  ready  command  of  thought  that  he 
possessed  in  so  wonderful  a  degree,  entered  warmly  into 
topics  as  diverse  from  his  former  meditations  as  pos 
sible.  His  remarks  were  so  forcible  as  to  show  that  his 
entire  mind  was  thrown  into  them,  and  might  even  have 
discovered  to  one  less  intimate  how  long  he  had  resolved 
the  conquest  of  Austria  in  his  mind,  and  with  how  clear  a 
foresight  he  had  formed  his  plans  of  policy  respecting  it. 
It  was  thus  an  hour  passed  away ;  and  the  visit  terminated 
with  mutual  expressions  of  satisfaction.  On  the  comparison 
of  opinions,  both  had  satisfied  themselves  that  though  the 
territories  of  Austria  were  disadvantageously  situated  in 
respect  to  foreign  trade,  its  robust  and  hardy  population 
would  enable  France  to  levy  numerous  armies,  on  which 
the  imperial  eagle  might  depend  for  conquest  whenever 
the  enthusiasm  that  characterized  the  French  nation  should, 
by  any  accident,  subside. 

Truly  there  was  that  which  lay  heavy  on  Napoleon's 
heart,  for  no  sooner  had  the  door  of  his  apartment  closed, 
than  his  broad  chest  heaved  like  the  portentous  motion  of 
the  sea  at  the  approach  of  storms ;  his  eyes,  too,  resumed 
their  former  dulness.  Ah!  had  he  felt  for  those  who,  for 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  107 

his  sake,  lay  stiffened  in  death  beneath  the  open  sky,  this 
might  well  have  been;  he  might  even  have  wept.  No, 
only  of  himself  thought  Napoleon,  and  of  his  destiny. 
Hitherto  he  had  worn  the  warrior's  helmet ;  he  now 
remembered  that  no  purple  robes  had  yet  fallen  on  his 
shoulders;  he  had  not  yet  touched  the  diadem  he  coveted, 
and  had  pressed  but  the  lower  steps  of  that  throne  which, 
without  warning,  he  afterwards  ascended.  Had  his  final 
greatness,  in  all  its  plenitude,  been  clear  that  night,  with 
all  its  sequence  of  unutterable  misery,  the  prospect  might 
well  have  tortured  him.  It  was  not  so ;  and  yet  his  firm- 
set  limbs  shook  at  intervals,  whilst,  apparently  unconscious 
of  the  act,  he  would  take  up  and  throw  down  the  military 
cap  that  he  had  worn  during  the  day,  and  continually 
loosen  and  refasten  the  button  of  his  gray  surtout.  These 
incidents  are  not  wanting  in  significancy,  for  Napoleon 
was  wont  to  assume,  on  almost  all  occasions,  a  reposeful 
and  cheerful  manner.  His  present  mood,  if  like  the 
inroad  of  a  sullen  tide  over  golden  sands,  like  a  tide 
went  as  quickly  down,  giving  way  to  that  keen,  rejoicing 
expression  which  feeds  on  bright,  unalloyed  anticipation. 
A  disposition  to  cheerfulness  was  scarce  ever  absent  from 
Napoleon,  and  even  when  his  career  as  the  conqueror  of 
nations  had  for  ever  terminated,  his  buoyant  mind  brought 
round  him  at  fitful  seasons,  in  strengthened  splendour,  the 
charmed  imaginings  of  youthful  days.  With  such  a  man, 
was  cheerfulness  to  be  wondered  at  on  the  eve  of  a  victory 
that  made  more  tangible  the  object  of  his  ambition  ?  The 
wildest  aspirations  that  can  enter  a  mortal  heart  were 
about  being  fulfilled; — France  would  recognise  him,  with 


108  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

new  prestiges,  as  her  most  successful  general;  and  what 
was  more,  his  sagacity  and  intelligence  had  enabled  him  to 
estimate  the  extent  of  his  power. 

Hitherto  France  had  exhibited  the  unpromising  spectacle 
of  a  nation  divided  into  a  number  of  discordant  factions ; 
its  military  force  in  a  disorganized  state,  without  an  army 
capable  of  looking  the  enemy  in  the  face,  and  without  any 
general  in  whom  the  nation  could  place  confidence.  The 
armies  of  the  confederates,  at  the  same  time,  were  numerous 
and  well  disciplined,  flushed  by  expectation,  and  encouraged 
by  the  most  probable  appearance  of  success — a  condition 
met  by  the  most  complete  defeat  and  disaster.  As  a 
statesman,  Napoleon  had  reason  to  feel  proud;  for  not 
only  did  he  perceive  the  most  successful  method  of  subju 
gating  mankind,  but  knew  himself  able  to  prepossess  their 
minds  in  favour  of  any  yoke  he  chose  to  impose.  He  had 
adopted  a  matchless  system  of  proselytism,  and  one  most 
easy  to  carry  out.  The  minds  of  all  classes  in  France  had 
been  put  in  a  state  of  delusion  from  visionary  theories,  or 
become  corrupted  by  the  expectation  of  advancing  their 
private  interests  in  the  bustle  of  innovation,  and  amidst 
the  vicissitudes  of  political  confusion.  The  only  restraint 
upon  their  pride  of  belief  that  all  things  might  be  made 
new,  was  the  fact  that  Austria  had  always  been  able 
to  present  a  formidable  front,  affording  an  apparently 
insurmountable  obstacle  to  the  extension  of  French  do 
minion  and  power  in  that  quarter.  Napoleon  remembered 
this  and  rejoiced,  and  as  he  pondered  in  that  empty  room, 
he  inwardly  determined  to  assume  a  more  dictatorial  tone. 
He  could  not  forbear  withal  from  picturing  his  next  return 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  109 

to  France,  to  that  people  whose  interests  had  now  become 
identified  with  his  own.  It  was  no  dream;  but  again 
a  shadow  fell  over  the  beaming  pathway,  and  his  heart 
underwent  eclipse.  His  step  soon  became  less  rapid,  and 
at  intervals  he  gave  utterance  to  sentences  abrupt,  impas 
sioned,  but  almost  meaningless.  A  calm  and  quiet  gravity 
succeeded ;  and  seating  himself  upon  a  chair,  he  fixed  his 
eyes  on  the  fire,  which  an  attendant,  who  had  just  entered 
the  apartment,  was  piling  up.  In  a  short  while,  and  pro 
bably  without  intention,  he  bent  over  the  outspread  map 
that  lay  on  the  table  at  his  side ;  but,  strangely  enough,  a 
roll  of  parchment  rolled  down  upon  it :  the  sight  did  not 
please  Napoleon,  and  again  he  relapsed  into  his  former 
listless  mood.  That  parchment  was  the  undespatched 
order  for  the  immediate  execution  of  the  Duke  D'Enghien, 
and  lay  here  awaiting  his  signature.  God  alone  knows 
the  unbidden  thoughts  that  pressed  round  Napoleon  during 
that  inward  conflict  of  conscience  Avith  the  darkest  and 
the  most  retributive  passions.  A  moment  more,  and 
smiles  of  mockery  were  traced  on  his  stern  features,  as 
if  at  his  own  imagined  weakness.  Napoleon  was  forgetful 
that  his  hesitation  sprung  from  the  very  humanity  of  the 
nature  that  he  wore  vindicating  itself,  despoiled  and  dimmed 
in  glory  as  it  was. 

"This  must  not  be,"  he  exclaimed  at  length;  "time flies, 
and — 'what  thou  doest  do  quickly.'  Why  do  I  hesitate? 
Let  this  man  be  weighed  against  the  millions  that  have 
perished,  and  what  is  his  worth?"  In  an  instant  more 
the  scroll  was  opened  and  the  mighty  hand  of  the  con 
queror  grasped  the  pen;  but  ere  that  pen  could  touch  the 

10 


110  TEUTH  AND  FANCY. 

document,  a  loud  challenge  of  the  guards  without  arrested 
his  attention. 

"A  friend,"  was  the  reply.  At  that  late  hour  the 
rejoinder  was  perfectly  audible  to  Napoleon,  who,  glad  of 
interruption,  rose  from  his  chair  and  walked  towards  the 
window.  It  was  a  night  as  beautiful  with  moon  and  stars 
as  ever  blessed  the  earth.  His  quick  sight  detected  a  lady 
mounted  on  horse,  together  with  two  attendants.  The 
appearance  of  the  three  strangers  he  could  not  but  regard 
as  somewhat  curious;  the  circumstance,  at  least,  was 
sufficiently  surprising  to  raise  many  a  head  from  its 
uneasy  pillow,  and  fix  many  a  roving  eye  that  fain  would 
have  caught  glimpse  of  the  intruders.  Napoleon,  at  a  loss 
to  understand  the  object  of  the  visit,  stood  motionless  until 
an  aid-de-camp  opened  the  door  of  the  chamber  to  request 
permission,  on  behalf  of  the  visitant,  for  an  interview. 
"There  is  a  female  without,"  said  Dupont,  for  that  was 
the  name  of  the  officer;  "I  take  her  to  be  a  lady  of  rank." 

Napoleon  neither  spoke  nor  moved,  so  the  aid  con 
tinued  :  "  She  rode  up  to  our  outposts  in  company  with 
two  attendants,  and  desired  to  speak  with  the  commanding 
officer.  Her  business  seems  important."  The  French 
general  was  too  good  a  soldier,  and  too  heedful  of  his  duty 
to  suffer  annoyance  from  a  visitant  at  this  late  hour ;  and 
he  accordingly  directed  the  immediate  admission  of  the 
applicant. 

In  a  few  moments  a  lady  arrayed  in  deep  mourning 
was  ushered  in.  Her  dress  was  evidently  assumed  for  dis 
guise;  and  the  observant  general  discovered  at  a  glance, 
what  indeed  no  disguise  could  conceal,  that  she  was  pos- 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  Ill 

sessed  both  of  rank  and  station.  The  first  sensation  of 
the  stranger,  on  finding  herself  in  the  presence  of  Napo 
leon  and  his  aid,  appeared  to  be  that  of  an  alarmed  and 
shrinking  delicacy ;  but  quickly  recovering  her  accustomed 
air  of  quiet  dignity,  she  took  an  offered  seat  near  the  now 
smouldering  fire.  After  a  most  embarrassing  pause,  Na 
poleon  abruptly  broke  the  silence: 

"  To  what,  madam,  am  I  indebted  for  the  honour  of  this 
visit?" 

"  General  Bonaparte,"  was  the  reply,  in  a  voice  sweetly 
clear,  "  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  in  private  for  a  few  moments." 

"We  will  retire,"  said  Dupont,  with  proper  courtesy. 
As  the  last  footsteps  of  the  officer  became  inaudible, 
the  lady  threw  aside  her  cloak  and  hood,  which  had  effec 
tually  concealed  her  features.  Her  companion  started  in 
amazement ;  he  could  scarcely  credit  the  evidence  of  his 
senses  when  he  saw  before  him  the  lady  with  whom  the 
Duke  D'Enghien  was  known  to  have  exchanged  vows  of 
affection,  the  consummation  of  which  had  been  suspended 
by  the  Duke's  untimely  arrest.  Napoleon's  ultimate 
design  respecting  the  Duke  had  plainly  been  anticipated. 
To  conceal  a  momentary  surprise,  the  perturbed  warrior 
crossed  the  room  and  closed  the  door,  which  was  still  ajar. 
Returning  to  his  seat,  he  said  coldly, 

"  I  know  not  whether  to  censure  or  admire  the  energy 
that  has  led  the  daughter  of  a  Bourbon  to  enter  my  camp 
at  this  unseasonable  time,  although  not  unaware  of  the 
motives  by  which  you  may  seek  to  justify  this  act." 

The  intruder  instantly  rose  from  her  chair,  dismayed 
at  these  studiously  sarcastic  tones,  so  foreign  to  human 
feeling  and  sympathy.  Astonishment  seemed  to  grow 


112  TRUTH  AND  1'ANCY. 

upon  her,  till  she  looked  more  like  a  beautiful  statue  than 
a  living  being.  As  she  sank  down  alarmed  and  exhausted, 
her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  tears — those  most  eloquent 
of  witnesses  to  the  heart's  sorrow — flowed  abundantly ;  but 
quickly  recovering  that  dignity  which  never  long  forsakes 
a  noble  woman,  she  replied,  in  a  half-reproachful  air  : 
"  It  is  not  necessary  to  tell  General  Bonaparte,  that  no 
trifling  errand  would  tempt  me  to  such  a  venturesome  act; 
and  that  he  may  see  I  take  no  idle  liberty,  let  me  explain 
my  motives."  The  speaker  hesitated,  and  with  difficulty 
added:  "  I  believe  that  my  person  is  known  to  you." 

"Undoubtedly,"  returned  Napoleon,  who  had  the  faculty 
of  remembering  all  whom  he  had  once  seen  ;  "  you  are  the 
betrothed  bride  of  the  Duke  D'Enghien." 

"  If,  then,  you  know  of  my  engagement,  you  will  at 
once  acknowledge  strong  cause  for  my  interest  in  his  wel 
fare.  There  was  a  time  when  I  should  have  shrunk  as 
from  death  from  such  an  avowal ;  but  now  I  hesitate  not 
to  own  my  love  for  him.  It  is  this  which  has  brought  me 
alone  to  your  camp ;  there  is  no  earthly  sacrifice  from 
which  I  would  now  shrink,  if  I  might  only — " 

A  quick  and  restless  motion  of  the  man  whom  she  con 
fronted  followed  this  appeal,  made  the  more  touching  by 
its  incompletion ;  and  she  looked  into  his  face  as  if  to 
gather  some  sign  of  mercy.  Certain  it  is  she  was  under 
stood. 

Rigid  as  ever  were  those  features;  and  yet  she  was 
speaking  to  one  who  held  in  his  hands  the  destiny  of  her 
lover ! — whose  one  word  could  restore  him  from  the  gloom 
of  a  prison  to  the  liberty  of  life  ! 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  113 

"The  Duke  D'Enghien,"  replied  Napoleon,  "is  my 
prisoner,  under  charge  of  the  heavy  crime  of  treason.  He 
has  incurred  its  penalty,  by  acting  as  spy  of  the  enemies 
of  France." 

This  was  not  without  its  effect  upon  the  listener.  "  Be 
lieve  me,"  she  exclaimed,  "this  charge  is  false  !  Could  I 
forget  my  position  and  my  sex  for  one  so  unworthy  of  his 
country's  regard  ?  But  even  if  he  has  erred,  give  him  the 
advantage  of  a  fair  trial."  She  paused,  breathless  and 
agitated. 

Napoleon's  eye  rested  with  a  gentler  expression  upon  her 
glowing  face.  "  The  Duke  d'Enghien,"  he  replied,  "  ought 
indeed  to  value  an  affection  which  can  dare  all  things ;  but 
I  cannot  allow  it  to  interfere  with  my  duty  to  my  country." 

His  manner  alarmed  the  lady,  for  his  face  wore  the  ex 
pression  of  one  who  is  conscious  of  the  possession  of  a 
secret,  the  knowledge  of  which  is  to  produce  the  most  pain 
ful  emotions.  Notwithstanding  the  calm  resolution  she  had 
displayed  in  the  foregoing  scene,  she  grew  paler  as  she 
whispered,  with  an  earnestness  that  rendered  the  soft  tones 
of  her  voice  doubly  impressive,  "  I  have  come  here  to  learn 
the  truth,  General  Bonaparte ;  and  it  would  be  cruel  in  you 
to  conceal  your  intentions." 

Napoleon  gazed  for  the  first  time  directly  on  the  femi 
nine  loveliness  of  the  beautiful  creature  before  him,  and  at 
the  suspended  animation  on  her  countenance ;  but  the  be 
holding  her  had  no  influence  to  turn  him  from  his  firm 
purpose,  for  he  said,  coldly:  "  I  shall  not  conceal  anything. 
I  will  further  allow  that  you  possess  the  fullest  right  to 

10* 


114  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

learn  everything  connected  with  one  so  nearly  related. 
His  is  no  ordinary  crime,  mademoiselle ;  and  it  becomes 
my  painful  duty — "  He  paused. 

"Proceed!"  cried  the  excited  girl,  nearly  ceasing  to 
breathe  in  the  intensity  of  her  interest.  A  face  colourless 
with  dread,  set  in  startling  contrast  the  lines  of  sternness 
on  the  face  of  Napoleon,  who,  without  trusting  himself  to 
any  utterance,  drew  forth  the  death-warrant,  and  placed 
it  in  her  hands.  She  took  it  with  a  sort  of  charmed  sub 
mission  ;  but  the  instant  her  eye  fell  on  the  engrossing 
formulary  words,  an  absorbing  curiosity  concentrated  every 
feeling.  The  document  was  concise,  and  its  abrupt  style 
would  have  sufficiently  identified  the  writer.  The  reader 
read  the  roll  a  second  time,  from  the  first  to  the  last  letter, 
before  it  produced  any  clear  impression  on  her  mind.  She 
could  not  bring  home  to  herself  the  possibility  that  her 
lover  was  immediately  to  be  consigned  to  death.  There 
must  be  some  mistake,  she  thought ;  it  could  not  be  that 
he  to  whom  she  had  united  every  thought  of  earthly  hap 
piness  was  thus  to  die.  This  was  truly  a  happy  doubt,  but 
for  which  the  shock  of  that  sudden  blow  might  have  proved 
fatal.  When  she  had  a  third  time  read  the  scroll,  her  looks 
turned  eagerly  to  her  companion,  anxious  to  detect  signs  of 
mercy — of  hope  in  his  countenance.  But  Napoleon's  inten 
tion  was  too  plain  to  be  long  misunderstood ;  and  when  by 
degrees  this  painful  dream  became  a  conviction,  her  whole 
frame  seemed  giving  way.  The  evidence  of  her  lover's 
doom  held  back  her  thoughts,  even  from  heavenly  consola 
tion.  Yet  she  continued  in  full  consciousness ;  the  very 
imminence  of  the  danger  endued  her  with  strength  to  em- 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  115 

brace  it  in  its  most  disheartening  aspects ;  and  as  she  closed 
her  eyes,  and  leaned  back,  wearily,  in  the  chair,  she  tried 
to  collect  some  sustaining  consideration  that  yet  might  for 
tify  her  from  despair  :  but  no  ;  her  lover's  death  appeared 
inevitable. 

As  Napoleon  stood  watching  her  in  silence,  she  sud 
denly  raised  herself  from  her  posture  of  grief,  and  her 
eyes  shone  with  a  wild  meaning,  as  they  became  riveted 
on  his  own.  For  one  moment  she  pressed  her  hands  to  the 
throbbing  balls,  and  then  in  a  voice  so  low  that  her  lips 
scarcely  moved  with  the  utterance,  she  whispered,  "  Gene 
ral  Bonaparte,  you  have  doomed  an  innocent  man  to  die — 
to  die  without  guilt.  The  eye  of  the  Almighty  reads  your 
spirit  while  I  speak ;  and  at  the  solemn  hour  when  eternity 
opens  to  you,  you  will  remember  the  words  of  one  whose 
heart  you  have  broken  ! — Yes,"  she  added,  with  a  look  of 
touching  anguish,  "you  have  destroyed  my  last  hope  !  and 
yet — oh  !  what  is  this  strange  impulse  of  prophecy  ! — an 
inward  voice  whispers  to  me  that,  as  surely  as  I  shall  see 
perish  from  before  my  eyes  all  I  love  on  earth,  for  want  of 
a  fellow-being's  mercy,  so  will  it  be  with  you !" 

The  speaker  paused ;  her  feelings,  excited  as  they  were, 
could  sustain  her  physical  frame  no  longer ;  and  before 
Napoleon  could  have  made  reply,  she  became  insensible. 
On  recovery  from  her  swoon  she  was  seated  in  a  chair, 
her  dress  damp  with  the  water  that  had  been  sprinkled 
in  her  face ;  and  in  that  moment  of  illusion  she  fondly 
trusted  that  the  impression  on  her  mind  had  been  all  a 
dream.  The  sight  of  Napoleon,  who  still  supported  her, 
dispelled  the  fancy ;  and  instantly  withdrawing  herself  from 


116  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

his  encircling  arms,  she  walked  to  the  door,  descended  the 
solitary  stairway,  and  recrossed  the  threshold. 

The  sentinels  dropped  their  arms  as  this  unknown  visi 
tant  passed  out,  and  interchanged  expressive  glances,  as  if 
seeking  in  the  countenances  of  each  other  some  solution  of 
the  interview.  Several  officers,  with  an  air  of  the  deepest 
respect,  passed  forward  to  accompany  the  mysterious  in 
truder  to  the  extremity  of  the  camp. 

Napoleon,  after  her  abrupt  and  sudden  departure,  turned 
with  a  look  of  chagrin  towards  the  yet  unsigned  death-war 
rant,  and  again  his  gaze  recoiled  quickly,  with  the  air  of  one 
not  sufficiently  at  ease  to  feel  any  desire  for  repose.  For 
an  hour  he  did  no  more  than  watch  the  motions  of  his  time 
piece — motions  that  increased,  in  place  of  lessening,  his 
own  impatience.  Once  more  he  sought  employment  for 
his  mind  in  looking  on  the  lifeless  moon — pale  and  sorrow 
ful  as  the  face  he  had  just  seen, — moving  in  the  tranquil 
heavens  without  voice  or  sound,  without  any  cadence  to 
soothe  his  troubled  spirit.  As  he  pursued  the  current  of 
his  thoughts,  he  became  himself  appalled  at  his  meditated 
purpose,  and  a  virtuous  indignation  was  about  frustrating 
the  intention,  when  his  ambition  once  more  sprung  up  to 
cancel  the  resolution.  The  baffled  master  of  armies  took 
up  the  fatal  document  for  the  third  time — reperused  it 
this  time  with  less  reflection.  Seizing  his  pen,  and  thrust 
ing  open  the  recoiling  parchment,  he  wrote — Napoleon — 
and  all  was  over  !  All  over  ?  nay,  not  so !  The  cloud  of 
doom  rose  in  that  moment  unperceived,  and  began  to  over 
shadow  him.  He  felt,  scarce  knowing  it,  a  sad  regret  at 
the  quick  departure  of  the  midnight  visiter,  who,  at  the 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  117 

eleventh  hour,  had  preached  to  him  repentance.  What  if 
the  prophecy  should  be  fulfilled  !  the  prophecy  of  his  fall 
from  that  towering  height,  to  which  arms  and  menaces 
were  pledged  to  raise  him  ?  It  was  a  solemn  and  a  gloomy 
thought. 

*  *  it  %•  *  * 

The  last  shades  of  night  were  fleeing,  when  orders  were 
issued  to  the  army  to  put  itself  again  in  motion.  As  the 
soldiers  sprang  from  their  brief  rest,  and  cast  looks 
towards  the  scene  of  their  late  warfare,  they  uttered  the 
most  extravagant  expressions  of  delight.  The  very  horrors 
of  that  warfare  had  made  every  heart  more  sensible  to  the 
quiet  loveliness  of  nature,  exhibiting — how  truly — that  the 
fiercest  passions  cannot  entirely  efface  the  heart's  tenderest 
sentiments.  Gigantic  forests,  fertile  valleys,  and  gushing 
streamlets  were  lit  up  by  the  rising  sun ;  a  warm  southern 
wind  blew  sweetly  over,  and  the  sky  above  bore  only 
those  light  fleecy  clouds  that  sweep  in  the  higher  altitudes. 
Though  the  eventful  night  was  long  since  over,  and,  in  the 
memory  of  the  roving  legions,  was  no  more  than  a  grateful 
recollection,  the  dark  act,  which  ere  this  had  consigned  a 
living  being  to  the  grave,  still  darkened  one  spirit  with  an 
aspect  of  malignity.  The  bugle  sounded  shrill  and  clear, 
inspiring  a  spirit  of  exultation  in  every  soldier's  breast ; 
but  without  the  camp,  far  away,  was  one  who  could  never 
hope  again. 

An  hour  after  the  orders  had  been  given,  every  piece 
of  artillery,  every  baggage-wagon,  was  in  motion.  The 
straggling  houses  on  the  slope,  and  the  hamlets  that  dotted 
the  vast  surrounding  plains,  were  once  more  left  to  their 


118  TKUTH  AND  FANCY. 

old  sweet  quiet,  and  the  reassured  villagers,  now  creeping 
from  their  hiding-places,  felt  the  joy  of  the  condemned  on 
receiving  a  sudden  reprieve. 

During  the  march  now  commenced,  the  officers  of  Napo 
leon  made  various  attempts  to  introduce  to  his  attention 
the  subject  of  the  last  night's  adventure,  little  deeming 
how  gladly  he  would  have  forgotten  it.  A  severe  reproof 
was  the  only  answer  condescended  to  these  vain  endea 
vours,  so  that  all  expressions  of  curiosity  were  very  readily 
suppressed,  under  fear  of  exciting  his  displeasure. 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  119 


CHAPTER   II. 


"What  i^t  that  takes  from  thee 

Thy  comfort,  pleasure,  and  thy  golden  sleep  ? 
Why  dost  thou  bend  thine  eyes  upon  the  earth, 
And  start  so  often  when  thou  sitt'st  alone  ? 
Why  hast  thou  lost  the  fresh  hlood  in  thy  cheek  ? 
Oh !  what  portents  are  these  T" 


Two  months  had  elapsed  from  the  period  in  which  the 
incidents  recorded  in  the  last  chapter  transpired — two 
weary  months,  replete  with  events  that  concerned  all 
Europe,  and  which  were  made  especially  famous  by  the 
incessant  marches  of  the  French  armies.  Presently 
through  all  Europe,  and  along  the  peopled  borders  of 
Asia,  flew  the  tidings  that  Napoleon,  the  Lieutenant,  the 
General,  the  Consul,  was  to  receive  as  his  gift  the  crown 
of  France.  Yet  so  great  had  been  the  slaughter,  so  many 
the  hearths  still  endangered  or  already  bereft,  as  seriously 
to  check  that  hilarity  which  a  triumph  scarce  ever  fails 
to  excite  in  a  victorious  nation.  Through  blood  Napoleon 
had  marched  onward  to  the  goal  of  his  ambition  ;  fortress 
after  fortress  had  yielded  to  the,  as  yet,  invincible  hero, 
and  a  continent  was  already  peopled  by  his  subjects. 

No  distress,  personal  or  national,  could  gainsay  such 
success.  The  evening  of  the  2d  of  December  found  Na 
poleon  Emperor  of  France.  In  spite  of  the  distresses  of 
war,  the  common  people  had  by  this  time  been  in  a  great 
measure  restored  to  former  comfort ;  and,  sharing  in  one 


Itt 


TRUTH  A? 


common  and  united  hope,  they  enjoyed  heartily  the  day 
of  pomp  which  obliterated  the  title  of  First  Consul,  the 
like  of  which  day  had  not  been  witnessed  since  the  time  of 
Charlemagne.  Every  public  place  was  crowded  with  the 
gar  Parisians,  while  shoots  of  Vfwe  Napoleon  !  in  every 
direction  rent  the  air.  From  the  suburbs  of  Paris  to  the 
waters  of  the  Sane,  matches  of  popular  songs  were  con 
stantly  mhigKng  in  the  shoots  of  the  gay  revellers.  But 
not  alone  for  Paris  was  this  time  eventful ;  the  country 
from  every  nook  poured  in  her  artisans  and  labourers,  to 
paj  homage  to  the  meteor  which  blazed  so  brightly.  Yes ! 
the  lofty  pinnacle  was  completely  won.  That  day  wit- 
nbassadors  from  every  city  in  Europe,  bearing 
of  favour  and  distinction.  Love  of  glory  and  thirst 
of  t  :~rr  ~r:e  ItgatMl  sitiifri. 

As  night  drew  on.  the  interior  of  the  palace  of  the 
Tmleries  became  Illumined  with  a  splendour  which  made 
every  stone  of  that  magnificent  and  ancient  pile,  and  every 
slate  of  the  high  slanting  roof,  clear  to  the  shining  multi 
tudes  who  thronged  the  gardens  round.*  In  their  midst, 
breast-high  in  foliage,  and  canopied  by  rustling  boughs, 
rose  the  white  marble  forms  that  Italy  had  loved :  while 
towards  the  Erjsian  Fields,  the  bright  watery  columns 
of  a  fountain  rartahifd  themselves  almost  as  tranquilly. 
Officers,  in  tike  dress  of  their  profession,  loitered  at  the  doors 

*  Tie  Talent*,  in  Peris,  fnate  the  rirer  Seine,  having  four  gnat 
atnrflMaw  with  ;•**«»«  and  a  fifth  parflion  coieted  with  a  dome,  under 
which  is  the  great  hall  and  staircase  which  leads  to  the  tipper  apart- 
meota.  It  was  tool*  by  Low  XTF.,  hariog  oa  oae  ode  beautiful  gar- 
deas,  mmmitttim'A  rtaiaary  fro«  Italy.— History  of  Frmet. 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHA^.  121 

of  that  sumptuous  edifice,  as  if  unwilling  to  leave  a  scene  of 
&o  much  splendour,  thus  heightening  its  magnificence.  Be 
neath  the  central  arch,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  grand  stair 
case  leading  to  the  reception  rooms,  stern  iMiiilinfln  were 
stationed;  these,  however,  challenged  none.  So  there 
went  up  whoever  listed : — the  young  to  see  something  new 
— the  old  to  revive  their  faded  dreams  of  royalty  ;- 
alike  feverish  with  an  undefined  expectancy.  It 
though  all  the  world  that  night  would  welcome  its  oppressor. 

Surrounded  by  his  brave  marshals — a  chief  amidst 
chiefs — Napoleon  suffered  group  after  group  to  gather 
before  him,  reading  by  short  and  piercing  glances  the 
character  of  each  individual,  and  with  a  wonderful  apti 
tude  suiting  his  words  to  the  capacities  of  whomsoever 
he  addressed.  Early  in  the  evening,  he  withdrew;  yet 
not  till  a  triumphant  shout  had  risen  from  the  dense  mass 
that  still  heaved,  billow-like,  without — a  shout  taken  up 
and  repeated,  over  and  over  by  thousands  yet  beyond. 

Napoleon,  unfatigued,  but  satiated  with  the  glories  of 
the  day.  repaired  at  an  early  hour  to  his  own  room :  not, 
however,  to  rest ;  when  midnight  came,  he  was  still  sitting 
pensive  and  alone.  He  noted  not  that  the  extravagant 
illumination  was  fading  away — that  activity  and  merri 
ment  were  being  changed  to  silence  and  forgetfulness. 

The  room  he  occupied  was  furnished  in  a  style  that, 
if  not  suitable  to  a  soldier,  or  remarkably  adapted  for  the 
lent  of  a  republic,  was  at  least  worthy  of  an  Em 
peror.  To  look  on  Xapoleon  himself,  his  visage  was  strik 
ingly  altered  since  the  midnight  interview  with  the  be 
trothed  of  bis  murdered  victim :  the  lines  about  his 

11 


122  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

were  darker  and  firmer,  and  constant  exposure  to  unkindly 
climates  had  darkened  his  complexion.  His  pallid  features 
told  not  only  of  months  of  hardship,  but  nights  of  wake- 
fulness.  The  proportions  of  his  frame,  too,  were  enlarged. 
These  outward  changes  had  been  observed  by  the  least 
observing ;  but  even  the  most  shrewd  could  have  detected 
more  than  one  particular  cause — incessant  labours  and 
watching — for  so  striking  and  so  swift  a  change.  But  up 
to  this  moment  self-consciousness,  as  a  smouldering  fire, 
had  been  withering  up  his  joy,  almost  without  detection. 
It  now  put  forth  its  power  with  a  strength  that  foreboded 
only  evil.  The  last  visit  of  man's  guardian  angel  is  ever 
propitious;  and  the  posthumous  journals  of  Napoleon  dis 
cover  the  fact  that  recollections  which  had  lain  torpid  under 
the  excitement  of  successive  triumphs,  now  sprung  up  within 
him  with  severe  fidelity.  Each  particular  event  in  his 
distinguished  life  seemed,  with  wonderful  distinctness,  to 
stride  forward  into  the  present.  The  studies  of  his  restless 
youth — the  dawn  of  his  reputation — his  rapid  and  flatter 
ing  success — his  present  elevation  ; — all  these  marshalled 
themselves  in  rapid  survey,  and  obliterated  that  one  great 
avenging  form.  With  his  rise  had  commenced  a  new  era ; 
an  era  when  eminence  was  to  be  won  by  merit — so  dreamed 
he — and  valour  have  its  full  reward.  It  was  not  long  that 
his  thoughts  could  thus  intervene  with  his  convictions; 
but  still  the  panorama  of  life  continued  to  unwind. 

He  remembered,  as  it  were  but  yesterday,  the  joyous 
season  of  his  youth,  the  fostering  hands  which  caressed 
him,  the  nursery  on  the  floor  of  which  he  had  once  so 
demurely  played.  Again  he  sat  within  the  charmed  circle 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  123 

of  youthful  hearts,  and  heard  merry  voices  and  noisy 
laughter,  or  stood  hand  in  hand  with  loved  companions. 
His  mother,  too,  whom,  if  he  had  not  followed  in  obedience, 
he  never  failed  to  reverence  as  a  saint,  appeared  to  rise 
out  of  the  grave,  like  one  who  had  not  seen  corruption, 
and  to  pass  before  him  in  all  the  beauty  and  sanctity  of 
love.  The  innocent  passion,  the  guileless  serenity  of  those 
days  seemed  revived.  Prattling  voices,  and  the  voices  of 
the  wind,  the  savour  of  green  fields  and  the  fragrance  of 
fresh  flowers,  came  over  him — and  then  Suddenly  the 
whole  scene  died  off;  and  wretchedness — banishment  from 
the  Paradise — was  in  their  stead. 

What,  after  all,  had  power  and  fame  brought  him  ? 
Nothing  but  inquietude ;  inquietude  because  of  committed 
crime  and  departed  joy. 

In  bitterness  of  heart  the  Emperor  started  up  and 
paced  the  room  with  hurried  steps ;  as  he  did  this,  the 
very  atmosphere  seemed  to  teem  with  unnatural  life.  A 
mist  came  gradually  up,  and  a  thousand  living  shapes 
were  in  it.  He  saw  forms  and  faces  that  he  knew  were 
hid  long  ago  amidst  the  dead,  and  heard  the  moans  of  the 
dying  and  the  supplications  of  the  lost.  His  eye  wan 
dered  round  with  a  vague  gaze,  as  if  following  some  imagi 
nary  form.  Amidst  those  dreadful  gazers  was  the  noble 
victim  to  his  late  revenge — the  Duke  D'Enghien — in  the 
pangs  of  dissolution.  In  vain  he  willed  the  apparition  to 
be  gone  :  there  it  was,  and  would  abide — its  sad,  reproach 
ful  look  growing  more  reproachful  still ! 

Napoleon  now  resorted  to  the  excitement  of  stimulants 
to  support  his  spirits.  Approaching  a  side-table,  he 


124  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

filled  a  goblet  with  the  sparkling  fluid,  and  swallowed  its 
contents.  When  in  the  act  of  replacing  the  glass  a  dis 
tant  clock  tolled  out  with  a  piercing  distinctness  the  hour 
of  ONE.  The  tones,  aided  by  the  lateness  of  the  night,  fell 
mournfully  upon  his  ear,  and  as  the  echo  of  the  last  tone 
ceased,  he  started,  hearing  a  footstep  on  the  stairs.  To 
his  surprise  the  steps  neared  his  own  door;  and  notwith 
standing  his  courage  was  as  great  as  any  living  man's,  his 
heart  throbbed  violently.  A  moment  after,  one  of  his 
body-guards  stepped  in.  The  entire  expression  of  his 
countenance  underwent  an  instant  change,  and  he  com 
pletely  recovered  the  stern  manner  so  habitual  to  him, — a 
manner  to  which  may  perhaps  be  ascribed  no  small  part  of 
the  influence  he  exercised  at  will  over  inferior  minds. 

The  man  handed  to  Napoleon  a  note  from  the  court 
physician.  Napoleon  snapped  the  seal  asunder,  and  read 
as  follows : 

"SiRE: 

"  I  have  been  called  to  attend  a  lady  of  distinction,  who 
suffers  from  a  lingering  illness  that  must  very  soon  prove 
fatal.  It  is  her  request  that  your  Majesty  come  to  her  im 
mediately  after  this  intimation  is  received. 

"  MONTESQUIEU." 

Napoleon  ordered  out  his  carriage,  and  a  few  minutes 
afterwards  he  descended  the  grand  stairway,  on  the  steps 
of  which  lay  scattered  a  few  sleepy  guards.  The  coach- 
man-in-waiting  had  already  received  his  directions,  and 
as  quickly  as  Napoleon  entered,  drove  towards  the  "f'ont 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  125 

Royal,"  and  thence  along  the  broad  road  that  runs  parallel 
with  the  Seine. 

There  was  that  in  the  appearance  of  the  night — the 
plunging  of  the  moon  amidst  sombre  clouds,  the  plash  of 
the  water  of  that  shallow  and  untranquil  river,  and  in 
the  fresh  breathings  of  the  air  destined  to  feed  the  life  of  the 
morrow,  that  was  grateful  to  his  feelings.  Nature  is  ever 
refreshful  after  being  shut  out  from  the  heart,  and  her 
voice  is  ten  thousand  times  sweeter  to  the  wearied  mind 
than  the  attuned  symphonies  of  the  most  gifted  of  min 
strels,  cha.rm  they  never  so  wisely. 

Napoleon,  nevertheless,  could  not  avoid  dwelling  on  the 
singular  message  he  had  received,  or  prevent  a  wish  that 
the  mystery  might  soon  be  unravelled.  He  was,  never 
theless,  able  to  trace  by  his  eagle  glance  some  connexion 
between  his  recent  feelings  and  the  object  of  his  present 
visit.  What  this  distinctly  was,  he  knew  not.  His  sur 
mises,  however,  brought  no  satisfactory  conclusion.  Sud 
denly  his  carriage  rolled  beneath  a  massive  arch,  and  a 
side-door  opened  on  the  lighted  interior  of  a  mansion,  the  • 
outward  appearance  of  which  was  one  of  age  and  gloom. 
Napoleon,  as  he  set  his  feet  on  the  steep  and  narrow  steps, 
felt  for  the  first  time  a  surprise  at  the  alacrity  and  readi 
ness  with  which  he  had  obeyed  the  summons.  Still,  he 
had  no  misgivings,  and  passed  in.  Without  making  or 
receiving  an  inquiry,  he  was  ushered  through  a  long,  nar 
row  hall,  and  up  a  flight  of  stairs.  "  I  may  advance  no 
farther,"  said  the  domestic,  pointing  expressively  to  a 
chamber  door.  Napoleon,  at  the  page's  pause,  which  he 
hardly  heeded,  imagined  that  he  heard  the  suppressed 

11* 


126  TKUTH  AND  FANCY. 

sounds  which  usually  precede  a  visit  of  death  to  the  cham 
bers  of  the  sick ;  and  so  softly  did  he  step,  and  un 
close  the  door  pointed  out  to  him,  as  to  enter  without 
apparent  notice. 

The  scene  that  presented  itself  was  a  strange  one,  and 
to  his  mind — not  yet  relieved  from  the  active  terrors  of 
the  imagination — an  awfully  impressive  one.  On  a  bed, 
propped  up  by  cushions,  lay  the  emaciated  figure  of  a  young 
female.  Her  eyes  and  folded  hands  were  raised  towards 
heaven,  with  a  look  of  resignation.  By  her  side  knelt  the 
mother,  who  had  found  strength  to  minister  to  her  child's 
last  moments.  On  the  opposite  side  sat  her  father,  his  tear 
less  eyes  betraying  the  force  of  the  "mental  suffering  he  was 
struggling  to  conceal.  A  group  thus  mournfully  occupied, 
and  with  feelings  so  much  engrossed,  the  entrance  was 
unlikely  to  disturb.  The  Emperor,  almost  shrouded  in 
the  gloom  of  curtains,  advanced  to  the  bedside.  The 
very  first  glance  was  enough  to  show  him  that  in  the  midst 
of  suffering  and  death  he  saw  Florence  de  Rohan,  the  be 
trothed  of  the  Duke  D'Enghien,  from  whom  he  had  last 
parted  in  the  pride  of  health.  There  was  a  fearful  history 
in  those  sunken  temples  and  wasted  features — a  change 
which  told  Napoleon,  in  startling  accents,  what  mental 
suffering  had  been  compressed  into  that  interval  of  time. 
He  stood  with  arms  folded  across  his  breast,  and  gazed 
upon  the  wreck  before  him.  No  tone  of  music,  no  haunting 
air,  ever  recalled  such  a  host  of  piercing  memories  as  the 
altered  face  of  that  dying  girl.  The  heartrending  appeal 
on  that  eventful  night — his  signing  of  the  death-warrant, 
and  her  words  at  parting — words  so  fearfully  prophetic — 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  127 

all  these  were  traced  anew  with  indescribable  rapidity  on 
his  mind. 

The  hollow  eyes  of  the  invalid  at  length  unclosed,  and, 
strange  to  say,  lighted  up  with  a  ray  of  joy  as  they  rested 
upon  the  Emperor.  This  smile  might  be  compared  to  that 
which  illumines  the  ocean  in  the  pauses  of  its  storms:  a 
smile  sad  and  unattractive  in  its  sweetness.  Presently 
the  low  voice  of  Florence  was  heard,  and  Napoleon  bent 
forward,  holding  his  breath  to  listen. 

"  Pardon  me,  sire !  if  on  the  verge  of  the  grave  I  have  so 
far  forgotten  the  prerogatives  of  royalty  as  to  sink  for  a 
moment  the  subject  in  the  Emperor.  It  needs  not,"  she 
continued,  "that  I  repeat  to  you  what  I  have  suffered 
since  our  interview,  for  I  will  soon  be  in  a  land  where  the 
weary  are  at  rest." 

This  gentle  but  all-powerful  address,  from  one  so  frail 
and  yet  so  resigned,  served  as  a  crowning  stroke  to  the 
remorseful  feelings  of  Napoleon,  whose  sinking  head  and 
continued  silence  told  the  marvellous  working  at  his  heart. 
He  closed  his  eyes,  and  yet  beheld  her  as  he  last  had  seen 
her.  The  sufferer's  face  was  suffused  with  a  more  life-like 
tint  as  she  witnessed  Napoleon's  relenting  manner,  and 
she  spoke  again  with  a  sudden  strength  that  apparently 
contradicted  the  professional  knowledge  of  her  medical  i 
attendant:  "No  longer  grieve,"  she  said,  as  her  tears  fell 
softly  upon  Napoleon's  hand;  "it  is  the  living,  not  the  dead 
who  need  our  grief  and  ask  for  sympathy.  Support  from 
above  has  enabled  me  to  meet  death  with  composure ;  and 
before  I  depart  from  earth,  receive  my  forgiveness.  I  shall 
not  have  lived  in  vain,  if  you  bear  this  lesson  of  ambition's 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

doings  to  your  royal  home.  It  may  serve,  perhaps,  to 
curb  your  schemings  for  the  future,  and  to  instruct  you 
that  conscience  is  ever  true  to  her  trust.  Remorse  must 
visit  the  heart  which  yields  itself  to  unrighteous  dictates. 
Nothing  now  remains  for  me  hut  to  die,"  added  Florence, 
and  in  a  voice  so  low  as  scarcely  to  be  heard. 

As  she  paused,  and  leant  back  childlike  on  her  mother's 
bosom,  a  faint  but  beautiful  smile — the  smile  seldom  seen 
but  on  the  faces  of  the  dead — rested  on  her  features,  as 
though  of  satisfaction  with  this  interview  with  her  destroyer. 
Her  respiration  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  her  visitor 
felt  the  damp,  chill  hand  relax  its  hold.  Silently  turning 
away  his  face,  Napoleon  laid  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and 
left  the  room. 

We  have  seen  how  futile  was  the  supplicating  anguish  of 
Florence  de  Rohan  on  that  eventful  night,  so  replete  with 
melancholy  incident,  when  her  devoted  affection  drove  her 
to  the  French  camp  on  a  vain  errand  of  mercy.  From  the 
moment  she  left  Napoleon,  her  manner  had  been  strangely 
in  contrast  with  the  excitement  which  had  previously  dis 
tinguished  it.  She  had  accompanied  her  attendant,  on 
leaving  his  presence,  almost  without  consciousness ;  but 
from  the  moment  that  she  reached  her  own  home,  amidst 
its  many  comforts  and  its  many  solaces,  she  pined  rapidly 
away,  like  a  phantom,  disappearing  without  whisper  of 
complaint.  Yet  over  her  death-bed  hovered  a  glorious 
and  assured  hope — the  hope  of  being  united  to  that  one 
mind  and  spirit  that  had  animated  for  her  every  earthly 
prospect. 

It  was  amidst  the  festivities  that  filled  up  the  week 


FLORENCE  DE  ROHAN.  129 

of  Napoleon's  coronation,  that  the  ancient  vault  of  the  De 
Rohan  family,  situate  in  the  cemetery  of  "  Pere  la  Chaise," 
was  opened,  and  that  from  one  of  the  most  magnificent  man 
sions  in  Paris  issued  a  coffin.  This  was  laid  upon  a  plumed 
hearse,  and  preceded  by  a  long  train  of  carriages,  amidst 
the  emblazoned  arms  of  which  could  be  distinguished  those 
of  the  French  Emperor.  Various  causes  were  assigned  to 
account  for  its  presence  at  the  interment  of  a  member  of 
the  house  of  Bourbon ;  the  most  general  conjecture  being, 
that  he  had  overlooked  political  animosities  in  his  desire 
to  do  honour  to  so  much  loveliness  and  goodness. 

It  remains  but  to  be  added,  that  the  death-bed  scene, 
with  whatever  had  concerned  it,  never  passed  from  the 
memory  of  the  Emperor ;  that  by  his  private  confessions, 
recently  disclosed,  it  served  to  cloud  his  most  glorious  pros 
pects  of  ambition,  and  to  stir  a  baneful  poison  with  every 
political  triumph ;  and  when  all  his  brilliant  achievements 
came  to  nought — himself  a  prisoner,  restlessly  pacing  the 
barren  summits  of  St.  Helena — it  dwelt  with  the  gloom  of 
all  his  terrible  remembrances.  Not  for  any  mortal  pen  is 
given  the  task  to  recount  its  still  torturing  signs  in  the  hour 
of  death,  or  for  any  mortal  mind  to  anticipate  in  its  full 
reality  the  tribunal  at  which  every  secret  work  will  be 
revealed. 

"  Days  are  gone,  by  many  a  token 
Long  foretold,  but  slighted  yet ; 
Now  the  seventh  last  seal  is  broken, 
And  the  sun  in  blood  hath  set." 

While  from  the  eye  of  the  reader  all  record  of  this 
story  fades  away,  may  not  his  heart  treasure  up  its  simple 


130  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

lesson — a  lesson  to  warn  us  that  human  happiness  comes 
neither  from  splendid  talents,  nor  brilliant  achievements ; 
that  intellect,  however  exalted,  unless  sanctified  by  pure 
and  lofty  purposes,  does  little  more  than  prepare  for  its 
possessor  a  wretched  fate. 

With  every  right  judgment  of  events,  the  mind  improves ; 
and  it  is  something  to  become  free  from  those  prejudices 
which  have  warped  at  times  the  best  balanced  minds,  when 
such  have  had  occasion  to  pass  judgment  on  the  prominent 
names  delivered  up  by  history  from  her  great  treasury  of 
wrecks.  Through  the  same  gate,  the  gate  whose  portals 
stand  by  the  grave  of  all  things  earthly,  have  gone  the 
victor  and  his  victims.  The  gates  again  close,  and  we  see 
nothing,  hear  nothing.  On  the  bright  pathway  illumined 
by  the  flames  of  vast  cities,  and  the  burning  torches  of  un 
numbered  soldiery,  darkness  closes,  and  night  is  come. 
Oh  !  if  we  would  pierce  that  heavy  veil,  let  us  image  in  the 
sky  of  celestial  azure  a  martyr's  bright  crown — a  reunion 
of  those  whom  mortal  love  was  fit  to  gladden,  but  who, 
called  hence,  find  themselves  thrice  and  inseparably  blessed. 
The  love  of  Heaven,  continuous  and  unalloyed,  is  the  oil 
which  hope  pours  on  the  flickering  flame  that  glimmers 
amidst  this  low  terrestrial  air — faith  pointing  to  the  time 
when  all  the  lamps  of  God's  kindling  shall  be  lifted  up  be 
yond  the  firmament  of  stars,  and  hung  amidst  the  change 
less  beauty  of  the  heaven  of  heavens. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  KOCK. 


luhq   of  ttj?   Hotk: 


A  LEGEND  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTEK    I. 


'•'  Splendour  in  heaven,  and  horror  on  the  main, 
Sunshine  and  storm  at  once— a  troubled  day." 

DRAMATIC  POEM. 


ALL  readers  of  English  history  must  be  able  to  recall 
to  mind  with  especial  distinctness  that  period  in  its  annals 
when  the  unfortunate  Charles  I.  drew  upon  himself  the 
odium  and  mistrust  of  Parliament,  and  London  witnessed 
the  unprecedented  scene  of  the  trial  of  a.  king  for  treason 
before  a  court  chosen  from  amongst  his  subjects.  It  will 
be  recollected  that  opposing  religious  interests  operated 

*  As  the  above  story  is  not  mere  fiction,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to 
remind  the  reader  that  its  groundwork  has  been  sought  elsewhere 
than  in  the  writer's  fancy.  The  main  plot  of  the  legendary  portion  is 
taken  from  "  Maltby's  Tales  of  the  Puritans,"  but  for  the  incidents 
and  language  the  writer  claims  entire  originality.  As  many  minds 
have  been  allured  by  the  stormy  grandeur  of  the  fate  of  the  regicides, 
it  is  not  surprising  that  several  persons  have  attempted  partially  to 
depict  it.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  authoress  has  sought  to  blend  with 
the  sterner  features  of  her  story,  those  more  delicate  shades  of  feeling 
and  sentiment,  which  no  crime  and  no  misfortune  can  prevent  from 
mingling  with  human  lot. 

12 


134  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

with  those  of  a  merely  political  nature  in  leading  many  of 
the  enemies  of  Charles  to  push  their  aversion  to  his  mea 
sures  to  this  extreme.  His  unwise  prohibition  of  the  Pu 
ritan  emigration  to  the  American  colonies  was  not  the 
least  of  these  creating  causes ;  and  might  he  cited  hy  such 
as  are  fond  of  tracing  retributive  justice  in  human  affairs, 
as  one  of  those  instances  in  which  men  are  permitted  by 
their  frowardness  to  pass  upon  themselves  the  sentence  of 
their  own  destruction,  since,  but  for  that  prohibition,  the 
most  powerful  opponent  of  Charles,  and  the  mighty  in 
strument  of  his  ruin,  would  have  embarked  for  New  Eng 
land,  and  this  country  have  become  the  theatre  of  Crom 
well's  actions  and  renown — supposing  that  the  elements 
of  that  remarkable  character  must  have  won  elsewhere 
something  of  the  same  name  he  has  left  behind  him, — a 
name  to  live  alike  in  the  condemnation  and  commendation 
of  mankind. 

To  the  period  alluded  the  beginning  of  this  tale  reverts. 
The  trial  of  the  king  had  been  in  progress  several  days. 
Of  more  than  an  hundred  and  thirty  judges  appointed  by 
the  Commons,  about  seventy  sat  in  constant  attendance. 
Chief  in  rank  and  importance  among  these  was  General 
Lisle — a  man  whom  we  should  not  confound  either  with 
the  mad  enthusiasts  of  that  day,  or  with  those  dissembling 
hypocrites  who  used  their  religion  only  as  a  stepping- 
stone  to  power,  or  the  cloak  to  conceal  a  guilty  and 
treasonable  ambition,  since  his  opposition  to  Charles  was 
actuated  solely  by  the  purest  principles  of  patriotism  and 
religion.  He  was,  at  the  time  of  the  trial,  in  his  sixtieth 
year  ;  and  his  constant  attendance  and  unwavering  firm- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  135 

ness  of  purpose — the  evident  results  of  preconceived  prin 
ciple — during  the  whole  sitting  of  that  strange  tribunal, 
were  not  without  great  effect  in  nerving  to  continued 
resolution  the  otherwise  faltering  minds  of  many  of  the 
younger  judges.  For  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  compunc 
tious  feelings  must  have  had  moments  of  ascendency  in 
the  hearts  of  a  number  of  those  with  whom  rested  the 
event  of  this  questionable  trial.  This  was  evinced  in  some 
by  their  occasional  absence  ;  in  others,  who  nevertheless 
felt  scrupulously  bound  to  be  present,  by  a  nervous  tremor 
at  the  appearance  of  the  prisoner,  and  subsequent  abstrac 
tion  of  attention  from  the  scene,  as  testifying  a  desire  to 
assume  as  small  a  share  as  possible  of  the  deep  responsi 
bility  belonging  to  the  occasion. 

Of  the  latter  class  Avas  William  Heath,  the  son  of  a 
Puritan  divine  in  Sussex.  At  the  opening  of  the  war,  he 
had  repaired  to  the  army,  and  risen  by  his  gallantry  and 
merits  to  the  rank  of  general.  Though  still  young  he  had 
been  afterward  conspicuous  in  Parliament,  and  was  one  of 
those  who  took  up  accusations  against  the  eleven  members. 
Yet  although  he  was  friendly  to  the  king's  deposition,  he 
had  at  first  positively  refused  to  sit  when  appointed  one 
of  a  Court  called  to  make  inquisition  for  his  blood.  And 
he  had  at  length  only  consented  to  assume  the  place 
assigned  him  there,  as  it  was  notoriously  believed,  through 
the  influence  of  Lisle,  to  whose  daughter  he  was  betrothed, 
and  his  nuptials  with  whom  were  to  be  completed  on  the 
night  on  which  this  narrative  opens. 

His  handsome  countenance,  as  he  sat  in  the  Court 
through  the  whole  day  preceding — though  it  contrasted 


136  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

with  the  pallor  which  had  marked  it  during  those  previous, 
in  wearing  upon  it  the  anxious  flush  of  the  expectant 
bridegroom, — yet  bore  the  same  harassed  air  which  had 
been  seen  upon  it  since  the  commencement  of  the  trial, 
and  which  even  the  blissful  hopes  he  was  about  to  realize 
could  not  suflice  to  dissipate.  It  was  only  when  he  turned 
his  eyes  upon  Lisle,  unflinching  in  his  dignified  composure, 
that  he  seemed  momentarily  able  "to  yield  himself  up  to 
the  unalloyed  anticipation  of  happiness.  So  true  is  it, 
that  a  conscience  ill .  at  ease  with  itself  has  the  power  to 
mar  the  bliss  of  heaven. 

The  Court  had  adjourned ;  the  prisoner  had  been  re 
manded  to  the  care  of  Lisle,  in  whose  house  he  had  been 
kept  in  strict  and  harsh  confinement  ever  since  his  landing 
in  London,  during  those  hours  not  occupied  with  his  trial ; 
and  but  one  more  day  remained  to  decide  the  doom  of  the 
unhappy  Charles  Stuart. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  In  an  apartment, 
far  remote  from  that  chamber  of  Lisle's  spacious  but 
sombre-looking  dwelling,  which  held  the  person  of  the 
royal  prisoner,  were  assembled  the  wedding  guests.  As 
much  festivity  and  ornament  had  been  called  to  grace  the 
occasion  as  was  consistent  with  Lisle's  Puritanic  views, 
yet  the  whole  seemed  by  far  too  little  to  celebrate  the 
marriage  of  the  lovely  divinity  for  whom  it  was  prepared. 
The  apartment  was  in  the  Elizabethan  style  of  architec 
ture,  but  devoid  of  those  ornaments  of  luxurious  taste, 
which,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  graced  the  houses  of  the 
opulent  and  distinguished  of  the  Church  of  England.  A 
quaint  stiffness  reigned  throughout  the  furniture  and  other 


THE  LADY  OP  THE  ROCK.  137 

arrangements.  Rows  of  high-backed  chairs,  interrupted 
here  and  there  with  a  book-case,  table,  or  other  heavy  piece 
of  mahogany,  stood  in  prim  regularity  against  the  wall; 
tall  candlesticks,  containing  taller  candles,  cast  their  blue 
light  from  the  mantel-piece,  and  a  large  Bible,  laid  open 
upon  the  table,  was  calculated  to  infuse  devotional  or  re 
ligious  sentiments  into  those  mirthful  feelings  belonging  to 
the  occasion.  No  branches  of  mistletoe  or  holly  hung 
around  the  room  remained  as  suggestions  of  the  recent 
Christmas ;  no  superb  and  glittering  chandelier  shed  its 
soft  flood  of  light  upon  the  assembly ;  no  damask  drapery 
or  luxurious  sofas  gave  an  air  of  elegance  and  comfort  to 
the  spacious  dreariness  of  the  apartment;  no  music  was 
prepared  for  the  enlivenment  of  the  evening ;  nor  were  any 
profane  amusements  that  night  to  invoke  the  judgments  of 
Heaven  upon  the  approaching  ceremony. 

The  company  consisted  of  more  than  two  hundred  guests, 
gentlemen  and  ladies,  all  staunch  Puritans,  and  opposers 
of  the  king.  The  countenances  of  many  of  the  male  por 
tion  of  these  were  recognisable  as  the  same  which  had,  for 
the  last  few  days,  appeared  as  the  arraigners  at  the  trial 
so  speedily  about  to  be  terminated,  and  a  certain  peculiar 
expression,  common  to  each,  betokening  a  mind  preoccupied 
by  one  deeply  engrossing  topic,  might  have  enabled  an 
uninformed  observer  readily  to  select  them  from  the  rest. 
Yet  there  were  others  present  to  whom  the  affair  alluded  to 
was  not  less  momentous,  and  with  whom  rested  fully  as 
much  of  the  responsibility  of  its  now  almost  certainly  dark 
result. 

One  of  these  latter,  conspicuously  seated  near  to  Lisle, 

12* 


138  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

was  the  mighty  mover  of  the  political  revolution  of  the  day, 
and  the  chief  instrument  in  procuring  the  king's  unhappy 
position — the  aspiring,  though  still  religious  Cromwell. 
The  descriptions  of  history  have  made  the  personal  appear 
ance  of  this  remarkable  man  so  familiar  to  posterity,  that 
it  is  superfluous  here  to  draw  any  picture  of  his  coarse  and 
strongly-made  form,  and  severely  harsh,  but  thoughtful 
features.  The  mention  of  his  name  will  at  once  call  up  to 
the  minds  of  such  as  have  ever  interested  themselves  in  the 
account  of  those  stirring  times, — which  have  left  their 
impress  upon  subsequent  events,  and  one  of  whose  later 
results  may  be  traced  in  our  own  national  freedom, — no 
vague  or  shadowy  embodiment,  but  a  well-defined  portrait, 
engraved  on  the  tablet  of  memory. 

On  this  evening,  his  furtive  glance  around  him  from 
beneath  his  shaggy  eyebrows,  as  he  conversed  with  Lisle 
in  a  labyrinthine  manner  peculiar  to  him  at  times,  evinced 
a  wish  to  penetrate  into  the  secrets  of  such  hearts  as  rated 
his  character  at  its  true  value.  A  close  observer  might 
have  noted,  too,  that  ever  and  anon  as  that  glance,  after 
wandering  to  distant  parts  of  the  room,  returned  and  fixed 
upon  Lisle,  it  gradually  fell,  as  if  stricken  to  earth  by  the 
steady  gaze  of  the  truly  disinterested  religionist,  and  the 
rebukes  of  its  owner's  accusing  conscience. 

"The  Court,  thou  sayest,"  ran  his  speech,  "have  this 
day  considered  and  agreed  upon  a  judgment.  It  is  well. 
But  I  tell  thee  that  not  Parliament,  nor  the  army,  nor  this 
Court,  could  avail  to  pull  down  Charles  Stuart  from  his 
high  place,  saving  that  the  God  of  Heaven  is  at  war  with 
him.  What  though  there  be  witnesses  to  prove  that  he  set 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  139 

up  his  standard  at  Nottingham,  led  his  armed  troops  at 
Newbury,  Edgehill  and  Naseby — issued  proclamations  and 
mandates  for  the  prosecution  of  the  war?  They  are  but 
instruments  in  the  hands  of  the  same  God  who  destroyed 
and  dethroned  Belshazzar  of  old,  because  he  was  weighed 
in  the  balance  and  found  wanting.  And  is  it  not  meet 
that  we  Christians  should  buckle  on  our  armour  in  behalf 
of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  ?  Yea,  verily !  else  for  mine  own  part, 
Charles  Stuart  should  not  fall  from  the  throne  of  England. 
I  am  not  a  bloody  man;  nay,  by  reason  of  human  frailty, 
my  heart  had  now  well-nigh  failed  me  in  this  very  cause, 
but  that  he  who  putteth  his  hand  to  the  plough  in  these 
troublous  times,  and  looketh  back,  need  be  careful  that  he 
be  not  hanged  upon  the  gallows  which  Haman  prepared 
for  Mordecai." 

The  whole  of  this  last  sentence  was  spoken  in  soliloquy, 
for  Lisle  had  at  that  moment  risen  to  receive  some  guests. 

The  persons  entering  were  three  in  number, — a  gen 
tleman  of  about  forty  years  of  age,  attended  by  two  lovely 
females,  whose  youthful  years  and  striking  resemblance  to 
himself,  would  instantly  have  suggested,  what  was  in  reality 
the  case,  that  they  were  his  daughters. 

From  the  looks  of  interest  with  which  his  arrival  was 
regarded  by  all  present,  it  was  evident  that  he  was  a  person 
of  some  distinction,  though  he  had  not,  at  that  period, 
given  to  the  world  the  monument  of  his  genius  on  which 
he  has  since  built  his  immortality.  Yet  John  Milton  was 
justly  celebrated  even  then  for  his  political  writings,  his 
strenuous  assertion  and  defence  of  liberty,  his  austere 
Puritanic  views,  and  his  abstemious  manner  of  life.  His 


140  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

whole  appearance  was  prepossessing  in  the  extreme,  but 
rather  interesting  than  commanding;  for  his  stature  was 
low,  though  his  body  was  strongly  made  and  muscular. 
His  hair,  which  was  of  light  brown,  streaked  with  hues  of 
gold,  and  hanging  in  silken  waves  to  his  shoulders,  was 
parted  in  the  middle,  after  the  fashion  of  the  day,  and 
surmounted  a  low  yet  expansive  forehead,  sufficiently  in 
dicative  of  the  depth  of  genius  which  lay  beneath.  His 
complexion  was  fair,  and  delicately  coloured  as  a  woman's  ; 
and  the  contour  of  his  features  might  have  been  objected 
to  as  effeminate,  were  it  not  for  the  expression  of  manly 
dignity  which  animated  the  whole  countenance.  His  full, 
gray  eye,  in  its  somewhat  sleepy  expression,  evinced  that 
quiet  melancholy  peculiar  to  poetic  genius,  while  a  certain 
searching  and  wandering  look  with  which  he  occasionally 
stared  fixedly  around  him,  suggested  the  idea  that  his  sight 
was  not  perfect. 

The  two  daughters  of  Milton,  by  whom  he  was  attended, 
were  highly  interesting  in  appearance,  with  the  dignity  of 
countenance  peculiar  to  their  father,  and  having  upon 
them  the  unrnistakeable  stamp  of  an  inheritance  from  him 
of  nature's  noblest  gift  of  intellect. 

Returning  Lisle's  salutation  as  he  approached  to  meet 
them,  these  two  young  females  retired  to  a  seat  amongst 
the  ladies,  and  left  Milton  and  his  host  standing  near  the 
entrance  of  the  apartment. 

"Thou  losest  thy  daughter  to-night,  honoured  friend," 
said  the  former.  "  I  trust  she  may  find  a  continuance 
of  that  happiness  in  wedlock  that  she  has  enjoyed  in  her 
father's  house." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  HOCK.  141 

"True  happiness  belongs  not  to  this  earth,"  said  Lisle. 
"  It  is  in  mercy  withheld  from  us  by  the  Almighty,  that 
we  may  be  the  more  ready  to  meet  death  when  the  sum 
mons  calls  us  hence." 

"Thou  speakest  well,"  replied  Milton;  "the  very  im 
possibility  of  finding  happiness  here  is  a  merciful  provision 
of  the  all-wise  Creator.  But  talking  of  a  willingness  to 
encounter  death,  they  tell  me  that  the  Court  have  decided 
upon  the  sentence  of  the  tyrant  and  traitor  king.  Is  the 
rumour  correct?" 

"  So  much  so,"  said  Lisle,  "that  to-morrow  we  sign  the 
warrant  for  his  execution." 

"  I  shall  marvel,"  said  the  other,  "  though  I  speak  it 
with  shame,  if  fifty  out  of  your  hundred  have  the  Chris 
tian  courage  to  stain  their  fingers  with  the  touch  of  the 
bloody  quill  prepared  for  them." 

"May  all  such  then,"  returned  Lisle,  while  a  flush  as  of 
indignation  passed  over  his  countenance  for  an  instant, 
and  then  died  rapidly  away — "may  all  such  as  flinch  from 
the  performance  of  this  noble  act  of  duty  to  their  country 
and  to  God,  and  omit  to  place  their  names,  when  called 
upon,  to  that  righteous  document  of  His  preparing,  not 
find  at  the  last  judgment  that  the  angel  of  the  Lord  has 
likewise  omitted  to  place  their  names  upon  his  book.  But 
here  is  my  daughter  and  her  future  husband;  and  the 
man  of  God  has  risen  to  perform  the  marriage  ceremony. 
Excuse  me,  I  must  meet  them  at  the  door." 

"I  pray  thee  give  me  thy  hand  first,  and  conduct  me 
to  a  seat.  A  strange  mistiness  which  I  have  of  late  had 
to  come  frequently  across  my  eyes,  is  upon  them  now,  and 
every  object  before  me  seems  indistinct  and  confused." 


142  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

Lisle  hastily  did  as  his  friend  desired,  scarcely  hearing 
or  heeding,  in  his  hurry,  the  import  of  his  words,  and  then 
advancing  to  meet  his  daughter  and  Heath,  he  conducted 
them  toward  the  venerable  minister  of  their  faith,  in  wait 
ing  to  unite  the  young  couple  in  the  bonds  of  holy  wed 
lock. 

As  they  took  their  station  before  him,  his  pious  "  Let 
us  pray,"  was  heard,  and  all  present  arose.  After  a  long 
and  fervent  supplication,  in  the  manner  of  the  Puritan 
divines  of  that  period,  he  delivered  a  sort  of  homily  upon 
the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  the  marriage  state,  and 
then  pronounced  an  extemporaneous  and  brief  ceremony, 
ending  with  the  words,  "  What  God  hath  joined  together, 
let  no  man  put  asunder."  This  was  followed  by  another 
lengthy  prayer,  and  William  Heath  and  Alice  Lisle  were 
husband  and  wife. 

The  company  now  advanced  to  greet  the  bride  and 
groom,  who  separately  returned  their  salutations  with  a 
polished  grace  appropriate  to  their  differing  sex. 

Unscreened  by  the  customary  bridal  veil,  as  savouring 
too  much  of  a  form  belonging  to  the  established  church, 
the  lovely  face  of  Alice  was  not  covered,  save  that  a  few 
natural  ringlets,  purposely  left  unfastened,  fell  upon  her 
cheeks,  and  partially  screened  from  observation  her  exqui 
sitely  beautiful  features.  Her  dress  was  of  the  simplest 
and  purest  white,  and  without  ornament  or  addition  to 
enhance  her  natural  loveliness ;  and  it  is  impossible  to 
conceive  of  a  being  more  charming  than  she  appeared  in 
the  modest  diffidence  of  her  sex  on  the  most  important  and 
conspicuous  occasion  of  a  woman's  life,  and  yet  withal 


THE  LADY  OP  THE  ROCK.  143 

losing  nothing  of  the  dignity  of  manner  belonging  to  one 
conscious  of  possessing  that  energy  of  mind,  which,  so  far 
from  being,  as  some  erroneously  suppose,  a  masculine  or 
unwomanly  trait,  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  distinguishing 
and  crowning  mark  of  a  character  essentially  feminine. 
What  but  such  strength  of  mind  has  ever  yet  triumphed 
over  female  vanity  and  love  of  display,  and  from  the 
exacting  divinity  of  man's  homage,  converted  a  woman 
into  the  self-sacrificing  and  judicious  minister  to  his  hap 
piness,  fitted  her  to  be  true  to  one  with  untiring  devotion 
through  evil  report  and  good  report,  rejoicing  with  him 
not  for  her  sake,  but  for  his,  in  his  prosperity ;  sharing 
with  him  uncomplainingly  his  adversity,  and  cheering, 
with  words  of  comfort,  while  hef  own  heart  may  have  been 
well-nigh  breaking,  the  path  in  which,  but  for  her  example 
to  shame  him,  and  her  voice  to  comfort  and  encourage  him, 
he  would  have  sunk  to  rise  no  more. 

Well  was  it  for  William  Heath  that  Alice  Lisle  possessed 
these  requisites  for  becoming  such  an  unwavering  and  de 
voted  companion  in  misfortune,  as  we  have  described ;  for 
the  day,  though  not  immediately  near,  was  still  in  store, 
when  her  willingness  to  encounter  adversity,  and  her  fitness 
to  meet  it  with  fortitude  sufficient  to  sustain  herself,  her 
father,  and  the  husband  to  whom  she  had  that  night  given 
her  hand,  and  had  long  since  pledged  the  full  affections  of 
her  heart,  were  amply  to  be  tested. 

The  appearance  of  Heath  was  such  as  was  well  calcu 
lated  to  excite  interest,  and  his  mind,  character,  and  win 
ning  manners,  such  as  speedily  to  change  this  on  the 
appearance  of  any  preference  on  his  part,  into  sentiments 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

of  a  more  tender  character.  There  was  something  in  his 
whole  mien — in  the  easy  and  upright  carriage  of  his  head 
— the  intrepid  character  of  his  features — the  bold  and 
vigorous  flashing  of  his  dark  eyes — that  marked  him  no 
common  man. 

The  salutations  were  soon  ended,  and  the  company  now 
being  somewhat  relieved  from  the  awkward  embarrassment 
which  they  had  experienced  while  waiting  for  the  appear 
ance  of  those  whom  the  occasion  was  to  honour — for,  in 
those  days,  society  was  much  the  same  in  that  respect  as 
at  present, — the  company  scattered,  and  gathered  together 
in  knots  and  groups,  and  discussed  with  great  eagerness 
the  engrossing  topic  of  the  trial.  Conversation,  however, 
flowed,  not  as  it  was  wont,  in  its  pleasant  current,  diver 
ging  here  and  there,  as  fancy  or  caprice  suggested,  but  an 
appearance  of  gloom  pervaded  the  whole  intercourse  ;  and 
although  each  individual  appeared  evidently  to  make  an 
effort  to  relieve  this  feeling,  the  effort  itself  showed  a  con 
sciousness  of  the  constraint. 

It  was  not  then  the  custom  to  deprive  the  groom  and 
bride  of  each  other's  society  during  the  whole  evening 
after  the  ceremony,  but  was  rather  the  fashion  to  throw 
them  together  as  much  as  possible — which  must  at  least, 
in  the  case  of  all  love-matches,  have  been  more  conform 
able  with  the  inclinations,  than  that  habit  of  scrupulously 
avoiding  one  another  now  in  vogue.  Agreeably  with  this 
ordinary  arrangement,  Alice  and  Heath  withdrew  toward 
the  close  of  the  evening,  without  attracting  observation, 
into  an  ante-room  adjoining  the  main  apartment. 

It   had  not  escaped  the  notice  of  any,  that  notwith- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  145 

standing  the  blissful  occasion,  the  brow  of  Alice  wore  a 
cloud,  if  not  actually  of  sorrow,  at  least  of  melancholy 
sadness.  We  may  believe  that  this  had  attracted  the  espe 
cial  notice  of  him  who  had  that  evening  taken  her  happi 
ness  into  his  proper  keeping ;  but  his  sympathetic  heart 
rightly  surmised  its  cause. 

"  Thou  art  sad,  my  own  Alice,"  he  said,  "  on  this  night, 
which  I  had  fondly  hoped  would  have  made  thee  as  su 
premely  joyful  as  it  does  myself.  You  distress  yourself  on 
account  of  the  king's  situation :  is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  Not  only  on  account  of  the  king's  unhappy  situation, 
but  likewise  because  of  the  hand  my  father  and  thyself 
have  had  in  it.  I  fear  that  his  blood,  if  he  be  sentenced, 
as  the  rumour  is,  to-morrow,  will  be  avenged  upon  the  heads 
of  those  whom  I  love  best  on  earth." 

"But,  Alice,"  argued  the  husband,  "he  has  merited, 
by  his  tyranny  and  treason,  this  trial,  and  in  contemning 
the  Court,  as  he  has  done  throughout  in  refusing  to  plead, 
he  will  likewise  merit  whatever  sentence  it  may  see  fit, 
after  examining  the  competent  witnesses,  to  pass  upon  him. 
Besides,  has  not  your  father  told  you  that  this  is  the 
Lord's  cause,  and  that  He  calleth  aloud  from  the  throne  of 
Heaven  for  the  blood  of  Charles  Stuart." 

"  Those  are  indeed  my  father's  words,"  replied  Alice, 
"  too  severe  in  his  religious  views,  and  forgetting  that  the 
Almighty  is  a  God  of  mercy  no  less  than  of  justice.  But, 
William  Heath,  they  are  not  the  words  dictated  by  the 
generous  and  kind  heart  that  animates  thy  bosom,  else 
Alice  Lisle,  though  she  be  her  father's  daughter,  had  not 

this  night  become  thy  wife.     Listen  to  the  conscience  which 

13 


146  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

the  penetrating  eye  of  true  affection  seeth  even  now  re 
proving  thee,  and  have  no  further  hand  in  this  bloody 
work.  Charles  Stuart  may  be  all  that  the  Parliament  and 
your  Court  have  named  him  ; — and  if  he  be,  God  forbid  that 
I  should  justify  his  baseness ; — but  as  we  are  all  prone  to 
err,  it  is  sweet  to  forgive,  even  as  we  hope  to  be  forgiven. 
Go  not  to  the  Court  to-morrow,  William,  nor  stain  this 
hand  of  thine  by  affixing  thy  signature  to  the  death-warrant 
of  the  king.  Promise  me  this ;  I  ask  it  as  my  wedding 
boon." 

"  Would  that  you  had  spared  me,  beloved  one,  the  pain  of 
hearing  you  ask  aught  that  I  cannot  and  dare  not  grant.  My 
word  of  honour  to  your  father  is  pledged  to  perform  the 
very  act  which  you  implore  me  to  leave  undone.  It  was 
the  condition  which  sealed  my  happiness  in  calling  you 
wife  this  night.  When  I  would  have  shrunk  from  the  re 
sponsibility  of  taking  an  active  part  in  the  trial,  and  re 
signed  my  place  to  an  older  and  more  experienced  states 
man  than  myself,  Henry  Lisle,  in  disgust  at  what  he  con 
ceived  the  indecision  and  irreligion  of  my  character,  would 
have  robbed  me  of  that  dear  hope  which  has  even  now  been 
realized.  I  was  forced  to  promise  your  father,  Alice,  that  I 
would  not  only  accept  my  place  as  one  of  the  judges,  but 
that  I  would  be  present  throughout  the  trial,  and  shrink  from 
no  act  which  my  position  as  a  member  of  the  Court  imposed 
on  me — even  to  the  signing  of  the  warrant  for  Charles 
Stuart's  death.  Is  there  naught  else,  involving  less  than 
my  honour,  that  you  would  have  me  grant  you  ?  If  there 
is,  ask  it,  sweet  one,  and  I  will  move  heaven  arid  earth  to 
accomplish  it." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  147 

"  These  are  idle  words  of  gallantry,  William,  unworthy 
the  confidence  which  should  exist  between  us.  A  wife 
need  have  no  boon  to  ask  of  her  husband  unless  in  a  case 
which  involves  his  own  best  interests.  As  such  I  would  have 
had  thee  remain  away  from  the  court  to-morrow,  and  even 
have  sought  to  use  our  united  influence  to  detain  my  father 
also.  But  it  seems  he  has  set  his  heart  upon  the  matter 
even  more  than  I  had  deemed.  I  pray  the  Lord  that  his 
retributive  justice  for  this  parricidal  act  fall  not  heavily 
on  the  heads  of  all  of  us.  If  this  cause,  as  ye  both  believe, 
be  His,  can  ye  not  be  persuaded  that  He  will  avenge  Him 
self  on  the  king  without  human  agency.  Is  there  no  hope 
for  Charles  Stuart  ?  He  is  in  this  house :  can  no  means 
be  contrived  for  his  escape?" 

"  That  were  impossible,  dearest,  guarded  as  he  is  on  all 
hands.  But  if  he  would  abate  his  hauteur,  and  plead  his 
cause  in  the  eloquent  manner  he  so  well  knows  how  to 
assume,  there  might  yet,  perhaps,  exist  a  hope  for  him. 
In  this  lies  his  only  chance  of  escape." 

At  that  moment  supper  was  announced,  and  Alice  and 
Heath  repaired  with  the  rest  of  the  company  to  the  re 
freshment  room. 


148  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 


CHAPTER   II. 

"  Hark !  the  warning  tone 
Deepens — its  word  is  death!" 

MRS.  HEMANS. 

THE  large  hall  clock  in  Lisle's  house  had  told  the  hour 
of  eleven,  after  the  marriage  described  in  the  last  chapter, 
and  some  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  had  elapsed  since  the 
departure  of  the  guests,  when  the  reader  is  invited  into  a 
small  upper  chamber,  in  a  remote  wing  of  the  mansion.  It 
was  rather  comfortless  than  otherwise  in  its  whole  aspect, 
and  its  grated  windows  and  long  distance  from  any  adjoin 
ing  room — being  surrounded  entirely  by  galleries — sug 
gested  the  idea  of  a  place  of  confinement.  It  was  one  of 
those  small  rooms,  common  in  large  buildings  at  that 
period,  and  scarcely  more  suitable  in  its  arrangements  for 
an  occupant  than  the  waste  halls  and  galleries  which  led 
to  it.  Some  hasty  preparations  had  been  made  for  the 
prisoner's  accommodation.  Arras  had  been  tacked  up, 
and  a  fire  lighted  the  rusty  grate,  which  had  been  long 
unused,  and  a  rude  pallet  placed  in  one  corner. 

Seated  before  a  table  in  this  chamber,  was  a  person  of 
something  less  than  fifty  years  of  age.  He  was  dressed 
in  plain  black  velvet,  slashed  with  satin,  and  on  his  cloak, 
which  was  thrown  back,  glittered  a  star  belonging  to  the 
order  of  the  garter.  His  hair,  thick  and  black,  was 
slightly  sprinkled  with  gray,  and  arranged  in  the  custom 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  149 

of  the  day  with  scrupulous  exactness.  His  mustaches 
were  large  and  curled  upward,  and  his  pointed  beard  was 
of  that  formal  style,  so  frequently  seen  in  the  portraits  of 
that  reign.  His  face  was  oval  and  handsome,  the  features 
being  regular,  notwithstanding  that  his  full  brown  eyes 
seemed  rather  dull  as  he  sat  in  thought ;  and  a  peculiar 
expression  of  exceeding  melancholy  rested  upon  his  coun 
tenance.  This  look  of  melancholy  was  not  relieved  by  the 
marks  of  any  strong  ruling  passion  or  principle,  nor  much 
indication  of  individuality  of  character.  Yet  withal,  it 
might  not  have  escaped  observation,  that  in  the  whole 
aspect  there  was  not  wanting  a  certain  air  of  cold  resolu 
tion,  almost  at  variance  with  the  mildness  of  the  brow. 
This  person  was  of  the  middle  height,  strongly  made,  and 
showing  in  his  entire  appearance  a  dignity  denoting  the 
highest  birth. 

Before  him,  on  the  table,  lay  the  miniature  of  a  lovely 
child,  and  a  large  Book  of  Common  Prayer  open  beside  it. 
He  sat  gazing  upon  the  picture,  until  a  tear  ran  slowly 
down  his  cheek.  It  was  that  of  a  blooming  boy,  the 
bright  face  shaded  by  clustered  ringlets,  and  the  whole 
countenance  beaming  with  youthful  hope  and  beauty. 

"Sweet  child,"  he  said  audibly,  "may  you  ascend  the 
throne  of  the  Stuarts  under  better  auspices  than  I  have 
done !  Heaven  in  its  mercy  grant  that  you  may  never 
suffer  the  fate  of  your  wretched  father  !  Or  if,  at  least, 
such  hour  of  trial  ever  come  upon  you,  may  you  not  know 
what  it  is  to  be  thus  alone  in  your  affliction,  and  separated 
from  all  you  love  on  earth — shut  out  from  the  sweet 
sympathies  of  wife,  children,  and  home,  while  your  rank 

13* 


150  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

and  dignity  as  King  of  England  is  trampled  upon,  and  you 
are  imprisoned  and  tried  by  your  own  people !" 

His  softened  mood  seemed  suddenly  to  give  place  to 
more  angry  feelings,  as,  rising  up,  and  the  dullness  of  his 
eyes  brightening  to  a  keen  flash,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Let  this  Court  continue  the  mockery  of  its  sitting  ;  let 
it  arraign  me  day  by  day,  as  a  traitor,  tyrant,  and  mur 
derer.  Am  I  not  Charles  Stuart,  heir  to  a  mighty  line  of 
sovereigns,  and  shall  I  stoop  to  acknowledge  its  authority, 
rather  than  resign  myself  to  whatever  fate  its  villany  may 
impose  on  me  ?  Methinks  already  my  doom  could  hardly 
be  aggravated  :  yon  matted  floor — those  wooden  chairs — 
those  grated  windows — this  narrow  room — surely  a  prison 
were  no  worse.  Yet  perchance — but  it  cannot — no,  it 
CANNOT  be,  that  the  base  Cromwell  will  dare  incite  them 
to  shed  my  "blood." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Alice  Heath 
entered  the  apartment. 

"  Who  is  it  intrudes  upon  me  at  this  unseasonable 
hour?"  angrily  exclaimed  the  king,  turning  round  and 
facing  his  fair  visiter,  who  approached  him,  and  dropped 
upon  her  knee. 

"Spare  your  displeasure,  sire !"  she  said,  in  the  most 
soothing  voice ;  "  I  am  General  Lisle's  daughter,  but  I 
come  to  you  as  a  subject  and  a  friend." 

"  Rise,  maiden,"  said  the  king,  "  and  talk  not  of  being 
subject  to  an  imprisoned  and  belied  monarch.  Charles 
Stuart  is  hardly  now  a  sovereign  in  name." 

"Nevertheless,  I  would  perform  my  duty  by  acknow 
ledging  him  as  such,"  replied  Alice,  taking  his  hand,  and 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  151 

then  rising.  "  But  it  is  not  merely  to  admit  his  title,  that 
I  come  to  him  at  this  hour  of  the  night.  I  come  to  beg 
him  to  sacrifice  his  pride  as  the  owner  of  that  same  dignity, 
and  stoop  to  plead  his  cause  for  the  saving  of  his  life. 
Know,  my  liege,  that  to-morrow,  unless  you  consent  to 
relax  your  pertinacious  refusal  to  plead  your  cause,  the 
Court  sign  the  warrant  for  your  execution.  I  am  ignorant 
whether  or  not  you  be  all  that  my  father  and  your  ene 
mies  believe ;  but  if  you  be,  you  are  then  the  less  fit  to 
meet  death." 

"  Death  !  And  has  it  come  to  this  ?"  exclaimed  Charles, 
setting  his  teeth,  and  rapidly  pacing  the  room  for  some 
moments,  without  replying  to  his  gentle  visiter,  or  even 
heeding  her  presence. 

At  length  she  ventured  to  approach  him. 

"  I  have  told  you  in  what  alone  lies  your  hope  of  avert 
ing  this  awful  sentence,  my  lord.  I  pray  you  to  reflect 
upon  it  this  night.  .  A  little  sacrifice  of  pride — the  mere 
utterance  of  a  few  humble  words — " 

"  Sacrifice  of  pride  !  utterance  of  humble  words  !  thou 
knowest  not,  girl,  of  what  you  speak.  Charles  Stuart 
cannot  stoop  so  far,  even  though  it  be  to  save  his  life. 
Spirits  of  my  royal  ancestors,"  added  he, ."spare  me  from 
a  weakness  which  would  make  you  blush  to  own  me  as 
your  descendant."  And  he  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands. 

"  If  it  is  permitted  to  a  subject  to  own  the  feeling  for 
her  king,  I  compassionate  your  unhappy  case  most  deeply," 
said  Alice,  taking  his  passive  hand,  while  her  tears  were 
falling  fast. 


152  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

A  few  moments'  silence  prevailed,  which  Alice  inter 
rupted. 

"  Can  I  not  induce  you,"  said  she  at  length,  "  to  value 
the  precious  boon  of  your  life  above  the  foolish  pride  of 
which  we  were  speaking  ?  Think,  my  lord,  how  sweet  is 
existence,  and  all  its  precious  ties  of  pleasure  and  affection 
— and  she  pointed  to  the  miniature  on  the  table — how 
awful  is  a  violent  death,  and  how  lonely,  and  dark,  and 
mysterious  the  tomb.  Cannot  the  consideration  of  all  these 
things  move  your  purpose  ?" 

"  I  thank  you,  sweet  maiden,  for  your  noble  intention, 
and  may  God  reward  you  for  your  words  and  wishes  of 
goodness,"  replied  Charles,  much  touched  by  her  tone  of 
deep  interest,  "but  my  resolution  is  fixed." 

"  Can  you  suggest  nothing  then  yourself,  my  liege,  less 
displeasing  to  you  ?  Have  you  no  powerful  friend  whose 
influence  I  might  this  night  move  in  your  behalf?" 

"Nay,  it  cannot  be,"  replied  the  king,  after  pondering  a 
moment  upon  her  words.  "  Charles  Stuart  is  deserted  on 
all  hands,  and  it  is  the  Lord's  will  that  he  shall  die.  I 
begin  to  look  upon  it  already  with  resignation.  Yet  the 
first  intimation  came  upon  me  like  the  stroke  of  a  thun 
derbolt.  Private  assassination  I  have  long  dreaded ;  but 
a  public  execution  I  had  never  dreamed  of.  Nevertheless, 
be  it  so.  I  shall  meet  death  like  a  man  and  a  king." 

"Then,  farewell,  since  my  visit  is  futile,  and  the  Al 
mighty  be  your  support  and  comfort  in  your  added  afflic 
tion,"  said  Alice,  as  again  kissing  his  hand,  and  bathing 
it  with  tears,  she  withdrew. 

Left  alone  the  king  remained  for  some  time  in  deep 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  153 

thought.  All  anger  and  weakness  appeared  to  have 
passed  from  his  mood,  and  the  remarkable  expression  of 
melancholy  which  we  have  before  described,  deepened  on 
his  face  to  a  degree  scarce  ever  seen  except  upon  canvass. 
Not  less  heightened,  however,  was  that  coldly  resolute  air 
likewise  previously  alluded  to — so  that  if  evidently  sad,  it 
might  likewise  have  been  seen  that  Charles  Stuart  was 
also  determined  unto  death. 

What  were  his  reflections  in  view  of  the  announcement 
he  had  just  received  from  the  lips  of  Alice  Heath,  and 
which  he  saw  no  means  of  averting,  short  of  sacrificing  the 
dignity  with  which  his  rank  as  sovereign  of  England  in 
vested  him,  we  will  not  attempt  to  conjecture.  None  who 
have  not  been  in  his  situation  can  form  anything  like  an 
adequate  conception  of  his  state  of  mind ;  and  it  were  sacri 
lege  to  attempt  to  invade  the  sanctuary  of  the  human  soul 
in  such  hour  of  agony. 

Whatever  his  cogitations  were,  they  were  of  limited  dura 
tion  ;  for,  after  sitting  thus  for  a  considerable  time,  Charles 
pushed  back  his  chair,  and  falling  upon  his  knees  before  the 
table,  he  drew  the  Book  of  Prayer  toward  him,  and,  clasp 
ing  his  hands  upon  it,  read  aloud : 

"  The  day  of  thy  servant's  calamity  -is  at  hand,  and  he  is 
accounted  as  one  of  them  that  go  down  to  the  pit.  Blessed 
Lord,  remember  thy  mercies ;  give  him,  we  beseech  thee, 
patience  in  this  his  time  of  adversity,  and  support  under  the 
terrors  that  encompass  him ;  set  before  his  eyes  the  things 
which  he  hath  done  in  the  body,  which  have  justly  pro 
voked  thee  to  anger ;  and  forasmuch  as  his  continuance 
appeareth  to  be  short  among  us,  quicken  him  so  much  the 


154  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

more  by  thy  grace  and  Holy  Spirit ;  that  he,  being  con 
verted  and  reconciled  unto  thee  before  thy  judgments  have 
cut  him  off  from  the  earth,  may  at  the  hour  of  his  death 
depart  in  peace,  and  be  received  into  thine  everlasting  king 
dom,  through  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord.  Amen." 

Rising,  he  slowly  disrobed,  and  throwing  himself  upon 
the  bed,  soon  sunk  into  a  placid  slumber.  Strange !  that 
sleep  of  the  prisoner  in  the  prospect  of  death.  The  excite 
ment  of  suspense — the  palpitation  of  hope  not  altogether 
dead — these  banish  rest ;  but  when  the  feverish  perturba 
tion  caused  by  expectation  departs,  and  the  mind  has  no 
thing  to  feed  upon  but  one  dark  and  fearful  certainty,  it 
turns  to  seek  forgetfulness  in  sleep. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  155 


CHAPTER   III. 


"  With  my  own  power  my  majesty  they  wound; 
In  the  king's  name,  the  king  himself  s  uncrowned  : 
So  doth  the  dust  destroy  the  diamond. 

CHARLES  STUART'S  MAJESTY  IN  MISERY. 

"  Sardanapalus. Answer,  slave !  how  long 

Have  slaves  decided  on  the  doom  of  kings? 
Herald. — Since  they  were  free." 

BYRON'S  SARDANAPALUS. 


ALL  London  was  astir.  The  excited  populace  filled  every 
street  and  alley  of  the  vast  city.  The  report  that  sentence 
of  death  was  that  day  to  be  passed  upon  Charles  Stuart, 
rung  on  every  tongue,  and  the  popular  feeling  ran  mainly 
in  favour  of  his  condemnation.  All  business  was  suspended ; 
and  from  an  early  hour  crowds  were  wending  their  way  to 
Westminster  Hall,  where  the  trial  was  about  to  be  brought 
to  a  close. 

That  specimen  of  perfect  architecture — which  modern 
art  is  not  ashamed  to  take  as  a  model,  but  vainly  seeks  to 
imitate — had  been  fitted  up  with  great  regard  to  the  smallest 
details,  for  this  most  remarkable  occasion.  This  had  been 
done  in  order  to  invest  the  ceremony  of  the  trial  with  all 
the  pomp  and  dignity  becoming  the  delegates  of  a  great 
nation,  sitting  in  judgment  upon  their  monarch,  and  trying 
him  for  a  breach  of  the  trust  committed  to  his  care — the 
weal  and  peace  of  the  people.  Benches,  covered  with  blue 
velvet,  were  arranged  at  the  upper  end  for  the  accommo 
dation  of  the  judges ;  and  within  the  bar  were  strewn  thick 


156  TEUTH  AND  FANCY. 

carpets  and  cushions.  A  splendid  chair,  to  correspond  with 
the  benches,  was  placed  for  the  use  of  the  firm  and  subtle 
Bradshaw,  who  had  the  honour  or  disgrace,  according  as  it 
may  be  deemed,  of  presiding  over  the  Court.  He  was  seated 
before  a  table  covered  with  crimson  drapery,  his  fine  coun 
tenance  betokening  that  decision  for  which  he  was  remark 
able,  attired  in  costly  dress,  and  supported  on  either  hand 
by  his  assessors. 

The  galleries  were  filled  to  suffocation  with  spectators ; 
and  the  main  body  of  the  building  was  thronged  with  a  vast 
concourse  of  people,  while  a  regiment  of  armed  soldiery  was 
in  attendance,  with  pieces  loaded  and  ready  for  use  in  case 
any  tumult  should  arise.  The  Puritan  party,  now  no  longer 
timid  or  wavering,  took  no  pains  to  conceal  their  sense  of 
coming  victory ;  and  even  Cromwell,  usually  so  guarded  in 
every  outward  observance,  took  his  seat  without  the  bar, 
with  a  look  of  conscious  triumph.  A  profound  stillness  pre 
vailed  as  the  judges  entered.  Fifty-nine  only,  out  of  the 
one  hundred  and  thirty-three,  had  been  able  to  summon 
sufficient  resolution  to  be  present.  With  sad  and  solemn, 
though  severe  and  determined  countenances,  these  severally 
seated  themselves,  apparently  filled,  almost  to  a  sense  of 
oppression,  with  the  responsibility  devolved  on  them,  but 
seeming  not  the  less  resolved  to  act  according  to  their  de 
termination  previously  agreed  upon.  Among  these  were 
Lisle  and  Heath,  the  latter  of  whom  was,  perhaps,  the  only 
commissioner  whose  countenance  wanted  something  of  the 
resolute  bearing  we  have  described.  They  had  scarcely 
taken  their  seats,  when  the  rumbling  noise  of  an  approach 
ing  vehicle  was  distinctly  heard.  The  previous  silence,  if 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  157 

possible,  deepened,  and  for  some  moments  the  multitude,  as 
if  moved  by  one  mighty  impulse,  almost  ceased  to  breathe. 
Not  a  hand  was  in  motion — not  an  air  stirred — and  scarce 
a  pulse  beat,  as  the  ponderous  door  slowly  revolved  upon 
its  hinges,  and  the  regal  prisoner  entered.  He  cast  a  look 
of  blended  pride  and  sorrow  upon  the  judges  as  he  walked 
up  to  the  bar,  surrounded  by  a  guard.  But  he  made  no 
token  of  acknowledgment  or  reverence,  nor  did  he  remove 
his  velvet  cap,  as  he  took  the  seat  prepared  for  him. 

The  names  of  the  judges  were  called  over.  Bradshaw 
then  arose,  and  in  a  silvery  and  ringing  tone,  which  made 
his  declamation  peculiarly  impressive,  while  a  shade  of 
deepening  pallor  was  perceptible  on  his  countenance,  ad 
dressed  the  Couut. 

He  deviated  from  the  usually  calm  and  temperate  man 
ner  he  Avas  accustomed  to  assume,  and  became  warm  and 
impassioned.  As  he  went  on,  his  rich  voice  swelled  on  the 
air  with  a  clear,  distinct  intonation,  that  fell  deeply  and  art 
fully  into  the  ears  of  the  listeners.  He  was  evidently  bent 
as  much  on  appealing  to  those  without  the  bar,  as  to  the 
judges.  With  the  consummate  skill  of  a  rhetorician,  he  first 
drew  the  picture  of  the  serf-like  slavery  of  the  people,  depen 
dent  upon  the  will  or  caprice  of  the  king.  He  next  pointed 
out  the  liberty  to  which,  by  a  just  sentence  passed  against  its 
tyrant,  the  nation  would  be  restored.  Although  a  studied 
simplicity  of  language  pervaded,  in  general,  his  remarks, 
yet,  at  times,  some  striking  or  brilliant  metaphor  would,  as 
it  were,  accidentally  escape  him,  which  was  speedily  fol 
lowed  by  a  loud  roar  of  applause,  evincing  its  full  apprecia- 

H 


158  TKUTH  AND  FANCY. 

tion  by  his  hearers.    He  then  turned  to  the  prisoner  in  the 
following  words : 

"  Charles  Stuart,  King  of  England,  it  is  now  the  fourth 
time  that  you  have  been  arraigned  before  this  tribunal. 
On  each  occasion  you  have  persisted  in  contemning  its 
authority  and  denying  its  validity — breaking  in  upon  its 
proceedings  with  frivolous  and  impertinent  interruptions — 
frequently  turning  your  back  upon  the  judges — nay,  some 
times  even  laughing  outright  at  the  awful  charges  which 
have  been  preferred  against  you.  Since  its  last  convention, 
witnesses  have  appeared  to  prove  conclusively  that  you  took 
up  arms  against  the  troops  commissioned  by  the  Parliament. 
Once  again,  therefore,  you  are  called  upon  in  the  name  of 
your  country  and  your  God,  to  plead  guilty  or  not  guilty 
of  tyranny,  treason,  and  murder." 

No  change  whatever  took  place  in  the  king's  countenance 
at  hearing  these  words.  When  they  had  ceased,  he  slowly 
rose,  his  head  still  covered,  and  made  answer : 

"  I  acknowledge  not  the  authority  of  this  Court.  Were 
I  to  do  so,  it  were  to  betray  the  sacred  and  inviolable  trust 
confided  to  me  in  the  care  of  the  liberties  of  the  British 
people.  Your  delegation,  to  be  legal,  should  have  come 
alike  from  the  individual  voice  of  the  meanest  and  most 
ignorant  boor  of  this  realm,  as  from  the  high  and  cultivated 
hypocrites  who  have  empowered  you.  Should  I  ratify  such 
an  authority — in  the  eyes  of  the  law  not  better  founded 
than  that  of  pirates  and  murderers — I  would  indeed  be 
the  traitor  ye  would  brand  me.  Nay,  let  me  rather  die  a 
martyr  to  the  constitution.  But  before  ye  proceed  to  pro 
nounce  the  judgment  ye  threaten,  I  demand,  by  all  those 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  159 

rights  of  inheritance  which  invest  me  as  a  monarch,  with  a 
majesty  and  power  second  only  to  the  Omnipotent,  to  be 
heard  before  a  convention  of  both  houses  of  Parliament; 
and,  whether  or  not  ye  refuse  me,  I  adjure  ye,  the  so-called 
judges  of  this  Court,  as  ye  each  hope  to  be  arraigned  at  no 
unlawful  or  incompetent  bar  at  the  final  judgment,  to  pause 
and  reflect,  before  ye  take  upon  ye  the  high-handed  re 
sponsibility  of  passing  sentence  upon  your  king." 

He  resumed  his  seat,  and  after  a  few  moments'  intense 
quiet,  William  Heath  arose,  and  suggested  that  the  Court 
would  do  well  to  adjourn  for  a  brief  season  for  the  purpose 
of  taking  into  consideration  the  request  of  the  prisoner. 

The  expediency  of  this  suggestion  was  acceded  to,  and 
they  withdrew  and  remained  for  some  fifteen  or  twenty 
minutes  in  conference. 

On  their  return,  after  a  few  moments'  consultation  with 
some  of  the  older  judges,  Lisle  among  the  rest,  Bradshaw, 
taking  a  parchment  from  the  table,  turned  to  the  king  with 
these  words : 

"  Charles  Stuart,  you  have  in  your  request  to  be  heard 
before  Parliament,  as  well  as  in  other  language  addressed 
by  you  some  moments  since  to  this  honourable  Court,  given 
a  fresh  denial  of  its  jurisdiction,  and  an  added  proof  of 
your  contempt.  It  has  already,  by  such  contumacy  on 
your  part,  been  too  long  delayed,  and  must  now  proceed 
to  pass  judgment  against  you.  You  have  been  proven  a 
traitor  to  England  in  waging  war  against  her  Parliament, 
and  in  refusing  to  plead  in  your  own  behalf,  or  endeavouring 
to  invalidate  such  proof,  justice  has  no  alternative  but  to 
demand  your  death.  The  following  warrant  has  therefore 


160  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

been  agreed  upon  by  your  judges,  who  will  presently  affix 
their  signatures  thereunto.  '  We,  the  Commissioners  ap- 
p'ointed  by  the  Commons  to  sit  in  trial  on  Charles  Stuart, 
King  of  England,  arraigned  as  a  traitor,  tyrant,  and  mur 
derer,  having  found  these  charges  amply  substantiated,  do, 
for  the  glory  of  Grod  and  the  liberties  of  the  British  people, 
hereby  adjudge  him  to  death.'  ' 

He  ceased:  the  members  of  the  Court  had  risen  during 
the  reading  of  the  warrant,  to  testify  their  concurrence, 
and  the  fatal  document  was  now  circulated  among  them  to 
receive  their  various  signatures.  It  was  observed  to  be 
written  in  the  chirog'raphy  of  Cromwell. 

Throughout  the  remarks  of  Bradshaw,  Charles  had  re 
mained  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground ;  but  while  the 
warrant  was  being  read,  he  raised  them  and  cast  them  upon 
Cromwell,  who  was  standing  without  the  bar.  Brief  as 
was  this  glance,  it  seemed  to  convey  some  momentous 
truth,  for  Cromwell  became  at  first  scarlet,  and  then  pale 
as  death.  Instantly,  however,  he  turned  away,  and  began 
coolly  to  unfold  the  plaits  of  a  white  Cambric  handkerchief, 
and  appeared  only  occupied  with  that  object. 

As  soon  as  the  warrant  had  been  passed  around  to  re 
ceive  the  signatures,  and  Bradshaw  had  resumed  his  seat, 
Charles  arose,  and  with  more  of  dignity  than  contempt  in 
the  act,  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  judges — as  though  his 
pride  would  prevent  their  observing  whatever  effect  their 
sentence  had  upon  him. 

The  profound  silence  which  had  heretofore  prevailed 
among  the  crowd,  here  gave  way  to  loud  hisses,  and  ex 
pressions  of  contempt  and  disgust;  while  the  soldiers, 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  161 

instigated  by  the  Roundheads,  uttered  exclamations  of 
"Justice!"  "Justice!" 

Charles,  on  hearing  the  cries  of  these  latter,  turned 
mildly  toward  them,  and  casting  on  them  a  look  of  pity, 
said,  in  a  tone  of  voice,  which,  though  not  loud,  was  yet 
sufficiently  distinct  to  be  heard  by  all  within  the  bar : 

"  I  pity  them  !  for  a  little  money  they  would  do  as  much 
against  their  commanders." 

The  proceedings  closed ;  and  under  a  strong  escort,  and 
amid  the  shouts  of  the  populace,  the  noble  prisoner  was 
conducted  out  of  the  hall.  As  he  proceeded,  various  out 
rages  were  put  upon  him.  With  a  kingly  majesty  superior 
to  insult,  he  received  these  indignities,  as  though  he  deemed 
them  unworthy  to  excite  any  emotion  within  him,  save 
what  his  sorrowful  eye  indicated,  that^f  pity  for  the 
offenders.  Some  few,  in  the  midst  of  the  general  odium, 
endeavoured  to  evince  their  continued  allegiance.  But 
their  faint  prayer  of  "  God  save  the  king  !"  was  drowned 
in  the  swelling  cries  of  "  Down  with  the  traitor  !"  "  Ven 
geance  on  the  tyrant!"  "Away  with  the  murderer!" 
One  soldier,  who  was  intentionally  or  inadvertently  heard 
humming  the  national  air  of  his  country,  was  stricken  to 
the  ground  by  his  officer,  just  as  the  king  crossed  the 
threshold  of  the  door. 

"Poor  fellow,"  said  Charles,  "methinks  his  punishment 
was  greater  than  his  offence." 


14* 


162  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

"Will  nothing  moye  him?" 


THE  Two  FOSCARI. 


THE  streets  of  a  crowded  metropolis,  which,  with  their 
noise  and  clamour,  their  variety  of  lights,  and  the  eter 
nally  changing  bustle  of  their  hundred  groups,  offer,  by 
night  especially,  a  spectacle  which,  though  composed  of 
the  most  vulgar  materials,  when  they  are  separately  con 
sidered,  has,  when  they  are  combined,  a  striking  and 
powerful  effect  upon  the  imagination. 

At  a  late  hour  on  the  following  night,  when  London 
presented  such  a  scene  as  we  have  described,  two  persons 
•were  winding  their  way  to  the  palace  of  Whitehall.  One 
was  an  individual  of  the  male  sex,  in  whom  might  have 
been  seen,  even  through  the  gloom,  a  polished  and  digni 
fied  bearing,  which,  together  with  his  dress — though  of 
the  Puritanic  order — declared  him  a  gentleman  of  more 
than  ordinary  rank.  His  companion  was  a  delicate  woman, 
evidently  like  himself  of  the  most  genteel  class,  but  attired 
in  the  simplest  and  plainest  walking  costume  of  the  times. 
She  leaned  on  his  arm  with  much  appearance  of  womanly 
trust,  although  there  was  an  air  of  self-confidence  in  her 
step,  suggesting  the  idea  of  one  capable  of  acting  alone 
on  occasion  of  emergency,  and  a  striking  yet  perfectly 
feminine  dignity  presiding  over  her  whole  aspect. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  HOCK.  163 

"  I  have  counselled  your  visiting  him  at  this  late  hour," 
said  the  gentleman,  "because,  as  the  only  hope  lies  in 
striking  terror  into  his  conscience,  the  purpose  may  be 
best  answered  in  the  solitude  and  silence  of  a  season  like 
this.  Conscience  is  a  coward  in  the  daylight,  but  dark 
ness  and  night  generally  give  her  courage  to  assert  her 
power." 

"True,  William,"  replied  Alice  Heath,  (for  she  it  was, 
and  her  companion,  as  the  reader  is  aware  bv  this  time, 
was  her  husband,)  "  true — but  alas  !  I  fear  for  the  success 
of  my  visit ;  the  individual  of  whom  we  are  speaking  de 
ceives  himself  no  less  than  others,  and  therefore  to  him 
she  is  a  coward  at  all  times.  Hast  thou  not  read  what 
my  poor  dead  grandfather's  old  acquaintance  has  written 
about  a  man's  '  making  such  a  sinner  of  his  conscience  as 
to  believe  his  own  lies  ?'  ' 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  the  passage,  my  Alice,  and,  ever 
correct  in  your  judgment,  you  have  penetrated  rightly 
into  the  singular  character  we  are  alluding  to.  I  wot  it 
were  hard  for  himself  to  say  how  far  he  has  been  actuated 
by  pure,  and  how  far  by  ambitious  motives,  in  the  hand 
he  has  had  in  the  sentence  of  the  king.  Nevertheless, 
you  would  believe  his  conscience  to  be  not  altogether  dead, 
had  you  seen  him  tremble  and  grow  pale  yesterday  in  the 
Court,  during  the  reading  of  the  warrant,  (which,  by  the 
way,  he  had  worded  and  written  with  his  own  hands,)  when 
Charles  Stuart  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  upon  him  as  if 
to  imply  that  he  knew  him  for  the  instigator,  and  no, un 
selfish  one  either,  of  his  doom.  The  emotion  he  then  tes 
tified,  it  was,  which  led  me  to  hope  he  may  yet  be  operated 


164  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

upon  to  prevent  the  fatal  judgment  from  taking  effect.  It 
is  true,  Charles  is  a  traitor,  and  I  cannot  regret  that,  in 
being  arraigned  and  tried,  an  example  has  been  made  of 
him.  But  having  from  the  first  anticipated  this  result,  ex 
cept  for  your  father,  Alice,  I  would  have  had  no  part  in  the 
matter,  being  entirely  opposed  to  the  shedding  of  his  blood. 
All  ends  which  his  death  can  accomplish  have  already  been 
answered ;  and  I  devoutly  pray  that  the  effort  your  gentle 
heart  is  now  about  to  make  for  the  saving,  of  his  life,  may 
be  blessed  in  procuring  that  merciful  result." 

At  this  moment  they  paused  before  the  magnificent  struc 
ture,  known  as  the  Palace  of  Whitehall,  and  applied  for 
admission.  Vacated  some  time  since  by  the  king,  it  was 
now  occupied  by  his  rival  in  power,  the  aspiring  Cromwell ; 
and  although  the  hour  was  so  late,  the  vast  pile  was  still 
illuminated.  Having  gained  speedy  access  to  the  main 
building,  the  visitors  were  admitted  by  a  servant  in  the 
gorgeous  livery  of  the  fallen  monarch.  Heath  requested 
to  be  shown  to  an  ante-room,  while  Alice  solicited  to  be 
conducted  without  previous  announcement  to  the  presence 
of  his  master.  After  a  moment's  hesitation  on  the  part 
of  the  servant,  which,  however,  was  quickly  overcome  by 
her  persuasive  manner,  he  conducted  her  through  various 
spacious  halls,  and  up  numerous  flights  of  stairs,  till 
pausing  suddenly  before  the  door  of  a  chamber,  he 
knocked  gently.  As  they  waited  for  an  answer,  the 
accents  of  prayer  were  distinctly  audible.  They  were 
desired  to  enter ;  the  servant  threw  open  the  door,  simply 
announcing  a  lady.  Alice  entered,  and  found  herself 
alone  with  Cromwell. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  165 

The  apartment  was  an  ante-room  attached  to  the 
spacious  bed-chamber  formerly  belonging  to  the  king. 
It  was  luxuriously  furnished  with  all  the  appliances  of 
ease  and  elegance  suitable  to  a  royal  with-drawing  room. 
Tables  and  chairs  of  rose-wood,  richly  inlaid  with  ivory 
and  mother-of-pearl,  were  arranged  in  order  around  the 
room ;  magnificent  vases  of  porcelain  decorated  the  man 
tel-piece  ;  statues  from  the  chisel  of  Michael  Angelo  stood 
in  the  niches ;  and  pictures  in  gorgeous  frames  hung  upon 
the  walls. 

There,  near  a  table,  on  which  burned  a  single-shaded 
lamp,  standing  upright,  in  the  attitude  of  prayer,  from 
which  he  had  just  been  interrupted,  stood  the  occupant. 
For  an  instant,  as  she  lingered  near  the  door,  and  looked 
upon  his  figure,  which  bore  so  strongly  the  impress  of 
power,  and  felt  that  on  his  word  hung  the  fate  of  him 
for  whom  she  had  come  to  plead,  she  already  feared  for 
the  success  of  her  mission,  and  would  fain  almost  have 
retracted  her  visit.  But  remembering  the  accents  of 
prayer  she  had  heard  while  waiting  without,  she  considered 
that  her  purposed  appeal  was  to  the  conscience  of  one 
whom  she  had  just  surprised,  as  it  were,  in  the  presence 
of  his  Maker,  and  took  courage  to  advance. 

"  May  I  pray  thee  to  approach  and  be  seated,  madam, 
and  unfold  the  object  of  this  visit?"  said  Cromwell,  in  a 
thick,  rapid  utterance,  the  result  of  his  surprise,  as  he 
waived  his  visiter  to  a  chair.  "  At  that  distance,  and  by 
this  light,  I  can  hardly  distinguish  the  features  of  the 
lady  who  so  inopportunely  and  unceremoniously  honours 
me  with  her  presence." 


166  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

Immediately  advancing,  she  threw  back  her  hood,  and 
offering  him  her  hand,  said,  "  It  is  Alice  Heath,  the 
daughter  of  your  friend,  General  Lisle." 

Cromwell's  rugged  countenance  expressed  the  utmost 
surprise,  as  he  awkwardly  strove  to  assume  a  courtesy 
foreign  to  his  manner,  and  exchange  his  first  ungracious 
greeting  for  something  of  a  more  cordial  welcome. 

With  exceeding  tact,  Alice  hastened  to  relieve  his  em 
barrassment,  by  falling  back  into  the  chair  he  had  offered, 
and  at  once  declaring  the  purpose  of  her  visit. 

"General  Cromwell,"  she  began,  in  a  voice  sweetly 
distinct,  "you  stand  high  in  the  eyes  of  man,  not  only  as 
a  patriot,  but  a  strict  and  conscientious  servant  of  the 
Most  High.  As  such,  you  have  been  the  main  instrument 
in  procuring  the  doom  now  hanging  in  awful  expectation 
over  the  head  of  him  who  once  tenanted,  in  the  same 
splendour  that  now  surrounds  yourself,  the  building  in 
which  I  find  you.  Methinks  his  vacation  of  these  princely 
premises,  and.  your  succession  thereunto,  renders  you 
scarcely  capable  of  being  a  disinterested  advocate  for  his 
death — since,  by  it,  you  become  successor  to  all  the  pomp 
and  power  formerly  his.  Have  you  asked  yourself  the 
question  whether  no  motives  of  self-aggrandizement  have 
tainted  this  deed  of  patriotism,  or  sullied  this  act  of  reli 
gion  ?" 

"Your  language  is  unwarrantable  and  unbecoming, 
madam,"  said  Cromwell,  deadly  pale  and  trembling 
violently ;  "  it  is  written — " 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Alice,  interrupting  him  ;  "  you  think 
it  uncourteous  and  even  impertinent  that  I  should  intrude 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  167 

upon  you  with  a  question  such  as  I  but  now  addressed  to 
you.  But,  General  Cromwell,  a  human  life  is  at  stake, 
and  that  the  life  of  no  ordinary  being,  but  the  descendant 
of  a  race  of  kings.  Nay,  hear  me  out,  sir,  I  beg  of  you. 
Charles  Stuart  is  about  to  die  an  awful  and  a  violent  death  ; 
your  voice  has  condemned  him — your  voice  can  yet  save 
him.  If  it  be  your  country's  weal  that  you  desire,  that 
object  has  been  already  sufficiently  answered  by  the  ex 
ample  of  his  trial ;  or,  if  it  is  to  further  the  cause  of  the 
Lord  of  Hosts  that  you  place  yourself  at  the  head  of 
Britain  in  his  place,  be  assured  that  he  who  would  assert 
his  power  by  surrounding  himself  with  a  pomp  like  this,  is 
no  delegate  of  One  who  commissioned  Moses  to  lead  his 
people  through  the  wilderness,  a  sharer  in  the  common 
lot,  and  a  houseless  wanderer  like  themselves.  Bethink 
you,  therefore,  what  must  be  the  doom  of  him,  who — for 
the  sake  of  ambition  and  pride — in  order  that  he  might 
for  the  brief  space  of  his  life  enjoy  luxury  and  power — 
under  the  borrowed  name,  too,  of  that  God  who  views  the 
act  with  horror  and  detestation — stains  his  hands  with 
parricidal  blood.  Yes,  General  Cromwell,  for  thy  own 
soul's,  if  not  for  mercy's  sake,  I  entreat  thee,  in  whom 
alone  lies  the  power,  to  cause  Charles  Stuart's  sentence  to 
be  remitted." 

As  she  waxed  warm  in  her  enthusiasm,  Alice  Heath 
had  risen  and  drawn  close  to  Cromwell,  who  was  still 
standing,  as  on  her  entrance,  and  in  her  entreaty,  she 
had  even  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  His  tremor  and 
pallor  had  increased  every  moment  while  she  spoke,  and 


168  TRUTH  AXD  FANCY. 

though  at  first  he  would  have  interrupted  her,  he  seemed 
very  greatly  at  a  loss,  and  little  disposed  to  reply. 

After  a  few  moments'  hesitation,  during  which  Alice 
looked  in  his  face  with  the  deepest  anxiety,  and  awaited 
his  answer,  he  said,  "  Go  to,  young  woman,  who  presumest 
to  interfere  between  a  judge  raised  up  for  the  redemption 
of  England,  and  a  traitor  king,  whom  the  Lord  hath  per 
mitted  to  be  condemned  to  the  axe.  As  my  soul  liveth, 
and  as  He  liveth,  who  will  one  day  make  me  a  ruler  in 
Israel,  thou  hast  more  than  the  vanity  of  thy  sex,  in 
hoping  by  thy  foolish  speech  to  move  me  to  lift  up  my 
hand  against  the  decree  of  the  Almighty.  Truly — " 

"Nay,  General  Cromwell,"  said  Alice,  interrupting 
him,  as  soon  as  she  perceived  he  was  about  to  enter  into 
one  of  his  lengthy  and  pointless  harangues,  "nay,  you 
evade  the  matter  both  with  me  and  with  the  conscience 
whose  workings  I  have  for  the  last  few  moments  beheld  in 
the  disorder  of  your  frame.  Have  its  pleadings — for  to 
them  I  look  and  not  to  any  eloquence  of  mine  own — been 
of  no  avail?  Will  it  please  you  to  do  aught  for  the 
king?" 

"  Young  lady,"  replied  Cromwell,  bursting  into  tears, 
which  he  was  occasionally  wont  to  do,  "  a  man  like  me, 
who  is  called  to  perform  great  acts  in  Israel,  had  need  to 
be  immovable  to  feelings  of  human  charities.  Think  you 
not  it  is  painful  to  our  mortal  sympathies  to  be  called 
upon  to  execute  the  righteous  judgments  of  Heaven,  while 
we  are  yet  in  the  body.  And  think  you  that  when  we 
must  remove  some  prime  tyrant  that  the  instruments  of 
his  removal  can  at  all  times  view  their  part  in  his  punish- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  169 

ment  with  unshaken  nerves?  Must  they  not  even  at 
times  doubt  the  inspiration  under  which  they  have  felt 
and  acted  ?  Must  they  not  occasionally  question  the 
origin  of  that  strong  impulse  which  appears  the  inward 
answer  to  prayer  for  direction  under  heavenly  difficulties, 
and,  in  their  disturbed  apprehensions,  confuse  even  the 
responses  of  truth  with  the  strong  delusions  of  Satan  ? 
Would  that  the  Lord  would  harden  my  heart  even  as  he 
hardened  that  of — " 

"Stop,  sir,"  said  Alice,  again  interrupting  him  ere  his 
softened  mood  should  have  passed  away,  "  utter  not  such 
a  sacrilegious  wish.  Why  are  the  kindly  sympathies 
which  you  describe  implanted  in  your  bosom,  unless  it  be 
to  prevent  your  ambition  from  stifling  your  humanity  ? 
The  rather  encourage  them,  and  save  Charles  Stuart. 
Let  your  mind  dwell  upon  the  many  traits  of  nobleness 
in  his  character  .which  might  be  mentioned  with  enthu 
siasm,  ay,  and  with  sorrow,  too,  that  they  should  be  thus 
sacrificed." 

"  The  Most  High,  young  woman,  will  have  no  fainters 
in  spirit  in  his  service — none  who  turn  back  from  Mount 
Gilead  for  fear  of  the  Amalekites.  To  be  brief — it  waxes 
late ;  to  discuss  this  topic  longer  is  but  to  distress  us  both. 
Charles  Stuart  must  die — the  mouth  of  the  Lord  hath 
spoken  it." 

As  he  spoke,  he  bowed  with  a  determined  but  respectful 
reverence,  and  when  he  lifted  up  his  head,  the  expression 
of  his  featu^s  told  Alice  that  the  doom  of  the  king  was 
irrevocably  fixed. 

"  I  see  there  is  no  hope,"  said  she,  with  a  deep  sigh,  as 

15 


170  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

Cromwell  spoke  these  words  in  a  tone  of  decision  which 
left  her  no  further  encouragement,  and  with  a  brevity  so 
unusual  to  him.  Nor  was  his  hint  to  close  the  interview 
lost  upon  her.  "  No  hope  !"  she  repeated,  drawing  back. 
"  I  leave  you,  then,  inexorable  man  of  iron,  and  may  you 
not  thus  plead  in  vain  for  mercy  at  the  bar  of  God." 

So  saying,  she  turned  and  rejoined  her  husband,  who 
remained  in  waiting  for  her :  they  returned  together  to 
Lisle's  house. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  171 


CHAPTER   V. 

"  The  convent  bells  are  ringing, 

But  mournfully  and  slow ; 
In  the  gray,  square  turret  swinging, 
With  a  deep  sound,  to  and  fro, 
Heavily  to  the  heart  they  go! 
Hark!  the  hymn  is  singing — 
The  song  for  the  dead  below, 
Or  the  living  who  shortly  shall  be  so !" 

Brnox's  PARISINA. 

THE  thirtieth  of  January,  memorable  in  history,  rose 
gloomy  and  dark,  as  though  the  heavens  would  express 
their  sympathy  with  the  tragedy  about  to  be  enacted. 

Three  days  only  had  been  allowed  the  condemned  pri 
soner  between  his  sentence  and  his  execution.  This  in 
terval,  during  the  day,  he  had  spent  chiefly  in  reading  and 
prayer.  On  each  night  he  had  slept  long  and  soundly, 
although  the  noise  of  the  workmen  employed  in  framing 
his  scaffold,  and  making  other  preparations  for  his  execu 
tion  distinctly  reached  his  ears. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fatal  day  he  rose  early,  and 
calling  his  attendant,  desired  him  to  employ  great  care  in 
dressing  and  preparing  him  for  the  unusual  solemnity 
before  him. 

At  length  he  appeared,  attired  in  his  customary  suit  of 
black,  arranged  with  more  than  his  wonted  neatness.  His 
collar,  edged  with  deep  lace,  and  set  carefully  around  his 
neck,  was  spotless  in  colour,  and  accurate  in  every  fold, 


172  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

while  his  pensive  countenance  exhibited  no  evidence  of 
emotion  or  excitement. 

Bishop  Juxon  assisted  him  at  his  devotions,  and  paid  the 
last  melancholy  duties  to  the  king.  After  this,  he  was 
permitted  to  see  such  of  his  family  as  were  still  in  Eng 
land.  These  consisted  only  of  his  two  younger  children, 
the  Princess  Elizabeth  and  the  Duke  of  Gloucester. 

Notwithstanding  the  tender  years  of  the  young  Eliza 
beth,  she  seemed  fully  to  appreciate  her  father's  unhappy 
situation,  and  her  young  heart  appeared  well-nigh  burst 
ing. 

"Weep  not  for  thy  father,  child,"  said  Charles,  kissing 
her  tenderly ;  "  he  but  goeth  where  thou  mayst  one  day 
meet  him  again." 

She  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  sobbed  aloud. 
He  pressed  her  to  his  bosom  and  soothed  her  gently,  but 
seemed,  for  the  first  time  since  his  interview  with  Alice 
Heath,  on  the  night  previous  to  his  sentence,  half  un 
manned.  "  It  is  God,  my  love,  who  hath  called  thy  poor 
parent  hence,  and  we  must  submit  to  his  will  in  all  things. 
Bear  my  love  to  your  mother,  and  tell  her  that  my  last 
thoughts  were  with  her  and  our  precious  children." 

Separating  himself  from  her  by  a  great  eifort,  and  then 
pressing  the  boy  to  his  heart,  he  motioned  to  the  attendants 
to  remove  them,  lest  the  trial  of  this  interview  might,  at 
the  last,  unnerve  his  well-sustained  resolution  and  courage. 

The  muffled  bells  now  announced  with  mournful  distinct 
ness  that  the  fatal  moment  was  approaching.  The  noisy 
tramp  of  the  excited  populace — ever  eager  to  sate  their 
vulgar  gaze  on  any  bloody  spectacle,  but  anticipating  extra 
ordinary  gratification  from  the  novel  sight  of  the  execu- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  173 

tion  of  their  king — was  plainly  audible.  Presently,  the 
guard  came  to  lead  him  out.  He  was  conducted  by  a 
private  gallery  and  staircase  into  the  court  below,  and 
thence  conveyed  in  a  sedan-chair  to  the  scaffold,  followed 
by  the  shouts  and  cries  of  the  crowd. 

About  the  time  that  these  sounds  were  dying  away  from 
the  neighbourhood  of  Lisle's  house,  William  Heath  hastily 
entered  the  library,  and  taking  pen  and  paper,  wrote  the 
following  brief  letter : 

"  MY  DEAR  ALICE  : — 

"  I  cannot  but  rejoice,  that  after  finding,  as  we  believed, 
all  hope  of  Charles  Stuart  at  an  end — your  visit  to  Crom 
well  having  been  unsuccessful — I  removed  you  to  a  dis 
tance,  until  the  tragical  scene  should,  as  we  thought,  be 
ended.  The  tumult  and  noise  which  fill  the  city,  together 
with  the  consciousness  of  the  cause  creating  it,  would  have 
been  too  much  for  your  nerves,  unstrung  as  they  have  been 
of  late,  by  the  feeling  you  have  expended  for  the  unhappy 
king.  There  is  yet,  though,  I  delight  to  say,  and  you  will 
delight  to  hear,  a  single  hope  remaining  for  him,  even  while 
the  bells  now  ring  for  his  execution.  Lord  Fairfax,  who 
though,  like  myself,  friendly  to  his  deposition,  still  shudders 
at  the  thoughts  of  shedding  his  blood,  will,  with  his  own 
regiment,  make  an  attempt  to  rescue  him  from  the  scaffold. 
There  is,  in  fact,  scarce  any  reason  to  doubt  the  success  of 
this  measure  ;  and  this  evening,  Alice,  we  will  rejoice 
together  that  the  only  cloud  to  dim  the  first  blissful  days 
of  our  union  has  been  removed,  as  I  shall  rejoin  you  at  as 
early  an  hour  as  the  distance  will  permit. 

15* 


174  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

"  I  write  this  hastily,  and  send  it  by  a  speedy  messenger, 
in  order  to  relieve,  by  its  agreeable  tidings,  the  sorrowful 
state  of  mind  in  which  I  left  you  a  few  hours  since.  I 
am,  my  own  Alice,  your  most  affectionate  husband, 

"WILLIAM  HEATH." 

The  street  before  Whitehall  was  the  place  prepared  for 
the  execution.  This  arrangement  had  been  made,  in  order 
to  render  the  triumph  of  popular  justice  over  royal  power 
more  conspicuous,  by  beheading  the  king  in  sight  of  his 
own  palace.  All  the  surrounding  windows  and  galleries 
were  filled  with  spectators,  and  the  vast  crowd  below  were 
kept  back  by  soldiery  encircling  the  scaffold.  Charles 
mounted  it  with  a  steady  step,  and  the  same  dignified  reso 
lution  of  mien  which  he  had  all  along  so  admirably  main 
tained.  Uncovering  his  head,  he  looked  composedly  around 
him  and  said,  in  a  clear,  unfaltering  voice,  though  only 
sufficiently  loud  to  be  heard  by  those  near  him,  owing  to 
the  buzz  of  the  crowd : 

"People  of  England,  your  king  dies  innocent.  He  is 
sentenced  for  having  taken  up  arms  against  Parliament. 
Parliament  had  first  enlisted  forces  against  him,  and  his  sole 
object — as  God  is  his  judge,  before  whom  he  is  momently 
to  appear — was  to  preserve,  as  was  his  bounden  duty,  invio 
late  for  himself  and  his  successors,  that  authority  transmit 
ted  to  him  by  royal  inheritance.  Yet,  although  innocent 
toward  you,  and  in  that  view  undeserving  of  death,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Omniscient  his  other  sins  amply  merit  his  coming 
doom ;  in  especial,  having  once  suffered  an  unjust  sentence 
of  death  to  be  executed  against  another,  it  is  but  meet  that 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  175 

x 

he  should  now  die  thus  unjustly  himself.  May  God  lay  not 
his  death  in  like  manner  to  your  charge  ;  and  grant  that  in 
allegiance  to  my  son,  England's  lawful  sovereign  at  my  de 
cease,  you  may  speedily  be  restored  to  the  ways  of  peace." 

Lord  Fairfax,  with  his  regiment,  prepared  for  the  rescue 
of  Charles,  was  proceeding  toward  the  place  of  execution 
by  a  by-street,  at  the  same  time  that  the  king  was  being 
conducted  thither.  On  his  way  he  was  passed  by  Crom 
well,  who  then,  for  the  first  time,  became  aware  of  his  pur 
pose. 

Much  disturbed  in  mind  at  the  discovery  of  a  project  so 
likely  to  thwart  his  own  ambitious  views,  just  ripe  for  ful 
filment,  the  latter  walked  on  for  some  moments  in  deep 
reflection.  Presently  quickening  his  pace,  he  turned  a  cor 
ner,  and  stepped,  without  knocking,  into  a  house  near  by. 
His  manner  was  that  of  a  person  perfectly  at  home  in  the 
premises,  which,  indeed,  was  the  case  ;  for  James  Harrison, 
the  tenant,  was  one  of  his  subservients,  chosen  by  him  in 
consequence  of  his  austere  piety,  and  great  influence  with 
his  sect,  of  whom  it  will  be  recollected  that  Fairfax  was 
one.  Harrison's  appearance,  though  coarse,  was  not  actu 
ally  vulgar.  He  was  a  middle-aged  man,  tall  and  strongly 
made,-and  his  manner,  rough  and  military,  might  com 
mand  fear,  but  could  not  excite  ridicule.  Cromwell  found 
him  in  prayer,  notwithstanding  all  the  tumult  of  the  day. 

"I  have  sought  thee,  Harrison,"  he  said,  "to  beseech 
thee  engage  in  prayer  with  Lord  Fairfax,  who  is  now  on  his 
way  to  rescue  this  Saul  from  the  hand  of  the  Philistines. 
He  should  first  crave  the  Lord's  will  in  regard  to  his  errand. 
Wilt  thou  not  seek  him  and  mind  him  of  this  ?" 


176  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

* 

"  I  will  e'en  do  thy  bidding,  thou  -servant  of  the  Most 
High,"  said  Harrison,  rising  and  accompanying  him  to  the 
door.  "  Where  shall  I  find  Fairfax  ?" 

"  Thou  wilt  overtake  him  by  turning  speedily  to  the 
right,"  replied  the  other,  parting  from  him. 

"  One  of  his  lengthy  supplications  at  the  throne  of  grace," 
said  Cromwell  to  himself,  as  he  walked  on,  "  will  detain 
Fairfax  until  this  son  of  Belial  is  destroyed." 

Meanwhile,  upon  the  scaifold,  Charles,  after  delivering 
his  address,  was  preparing  himself  for  the  block  with  per 
fect  equanimity  and  composure. 

"  There  is  but  one  stage  more,  sire,"  said  Juxon,  with  the 
deepest  sympathy  of  look  and  manner.  "  There  is  but  one 
stage  more.  Though  turbulent,  it  is  a  very  short  one ;  yet 
it  will  carry  you  a  long  distance — from  earth  to  heaven." 

"I  go,"  replied  the  king,  "from  a  corruptible  to  an  in 
corruptible  crown,  where  no  downfal  can  transpire." 

So  saying,  he  laid  his  head  upon  the  block,  and  the  heads 
man,  standing  near,  in  a  visor,  at  one  blow  struck  it  from 
his  body.  Another  man,  in  a  corresponding  disguise, 
catching  it,  and  holding  it  up,  exclaimed,  "Behold  the 
head  of  a  traitor  !" 

At  this  moment  Lord  Fairfax  and  his  regiment  came  up. 
His  humane  purpose,  so  artfully  defeated,  becoming  known, 
with  the  strange  perversity  of  mankind,  now  that  its  bene 
fits  were  too  late  to  reach  the  king,  an  instant  revulsion  in 
the  feelings  of  the  populace  took  place ;  and  the  noise  of 
quarrels — of  reproaches  and  self-accusations  rent  the  air, 
until  the  tumult  grew  terrific. 

But  the  reverberation  of  no  thunder-clap  could  have  re- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  177 

awaked  the  dissevered  corpse  of  the  dead  monarch.  Charles 
Stuart,  the  accomplished  scholar  and  elegant  poet — Charles 
Stuart,  the  husband,  father,  friend — Charles  Stuart,  the 
descendant  of  a  long  line  of  sovereigns,  and  legitimate  king 
of  the  most  potent  nation  upon  earth — was  no  more ;  and 
a  human  life  was  blotted  from  existence  !  That  life,  what 
was  it  ?  Singular  and  mysterious  essence — capable  of  ex 
quisite  pleasure  and  intense  pain — held  by  such  a  preca 
rious  tenure,  yet  valued  beyond  all  price — the  gift  of  God, 
and  destroyed  by  man — a  moment  past  here,  and  now  gone 
for  ever — tell  us,  metaphysician,  what  was  it,  for  we  cannot 
answer  the  question. 


178  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


"  Patience  and  sorrow  strove 
Which  should  express  their  goodliest." 

SHAKSPEARE. 


WE  pass  over  that  brief  period  in  history  during  which 
the  new  form  of  government  established  by  Cromwell  nou 
rished,  and  the  usurper  and  his  successor,  under  the  title 
of  Protector  of  the  Commonwealth,  enjoyed  a  larger  share 
of  power  than  had  previously  been  attached  to  the  regal 
dignity.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the  deficiency  of  the 
latter  in  those  qualities  requisite  to  his  responsible  position 
soon  led  him  formally  to  resign  the  Protectorship,  and  his 
abdication  speedily  paved  the  way  for  the  restoration  of 
Charles  II.  to  the  throne  of  his  ancestors.  Unfortunately 
for  the  chief  characters  of  our  tale,  one  of  the  first  and  most 
natural  aims  of  the  new  king  on  his  accession,  was  to  seek 
the  conviction  and  punishment  of  the  Court  who  had  so 
presumptuously,  although,  in  many  instances,  so  conscien 
tiously,  passed  that  sentence  against  his  father,  which  we 
have  seen  reluctantly  carried  into  execution. 

Many  of  those  had  fled  at  the  first  rumour  of  the  resto 
ration,  in  anticipation  of  the  worst,  so  that,  on  the  com 
mand  of  Charles,  only  twenty-seven  persons — judges  and 
accomplices  inclusive — could  be  arrested.  These  had  now 
been  incarcerated  three  weeks  awaiting  their  trial,  which 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  HOCK.  179 

was  deferred,  from  time  to  time,  in  the  hope  that  more  of 
the  regicides  might  yet  be  brought  to  justice. 

Among  those  thus  imprisoned  were  Henry  Lisle  and 
William  Heath,  whose  fates  are  interwoven  with  this  nar 
rative. 

Leaving  this  needful  preface  to  what  is  to  follow,  let  us 
again  visit  Lisle's  mansion — the  same  which  witnessed  the 
marriage  of  his  daughter.  Several  years  have  elapsed 
since  that  event ;  and  after  the  mournful  impression  caused 
by  the  death  of  the  ill-fated  king  had  been  obliterated 
from  her  mind — for  Time  has  the  power  speedily  to  heal 
all  wounds  not  absolutely  inflicted  upon  the  affections — 
till  within  the  last  few  weeks,  the  life  of  Alice  Heath  had 
flowed  in  as  smooth  a  current  as  any  who  had  beheld  her 
on  her  wedding-night  could,  in  their  most  extravagant 
wishes,  have  desired.  In  their  untroubled  union,  her 
husband  had  heretofore  forestalled  the  wife's  privilege  to 
minister  and  prove  devotion — a  privilege  which,  however, 
when  the  needful  moment  demanded  it,  no  woman  better 
than  Alice  was  formed  for  exerting.  Trouble  had  not 
hitherto  darkened  the  young  brow  of  either ;  nor  pain,  nor 
sorrow,  nor  the  first  ungratified  wish,  come  nigh  their 
dwelling.  Under  the  same  roof  with  her  pious  and  aus 
tere,  but  still  affectionate,  father,  the  daughter  had  been 
torn  from  no  former  tie  in  linking  herself  to  another  by  a 
still  nearer  and  more  indissoluble  bond.  There  had  been 
nothing  to  desire,  and  nothing' to  regret.  The  life  of  her 
self  and  husband  had  been  as  near  a  type  as  may  be  of  the 
perfect  happiness  we  picture  in  heaven — save  that  with 


180  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

them  it  was  now  exchanged  for  sorrow — more  difficult  to 
bear  from  the  bitter  contrast. 

It  is  an  afternoon  in  September.  Alice,  not  materially 
changed  since  we  last  saw  her — except  that  the  interval 
has  given,  if  anything,  more  of  interest  and  character  to 
her  features — is  in  her  own  room,  busily  engaged  in  ar 
ranging  articles  in  a  travelling-trunk.  Her  countenance 
is  sad — with  a  sadness  of  a  more  engrossing  and  heartfelt 
kind  than  that  which  touched  it  with  a  mournful  shadow 
when  she  grieved  for  the  fate  of  Charles  Stuart — for  there 
is  an  incalculable  difference  between  the  sorrow  that  is 
expended  between  a  mere  object  of  human  sympathy,  and 
that  which  is  elicited  by  the  distress  and  danger  of  those 
we  love.  And  the  sadness  of  Alice  was  now  connected 
with  those  dearer  to  her  than  life  itself.  No  tear,  how 
ever,  dimmed  her  eye,  nor  shade  of  despair  sat  upon 
her  brow.  Feeling  that  the  emergency  of  the  occasion 
called  upon  her  to  act,  not  only  for  herself  but  for  others, 
the  bravery  of  true  womanly  resolution  in  affliction — reso 
lution  which,  had  she  alone  been  concerned,  she  might 
perhaps  never  have  evinced,  but  which,  for  the  sake  of 
others,  she  had  at  once  summoned  to  her  aid — was  distin 
guishable  in  her  whole  deportment  as  well  as  in  her  every 
movement. 

As  she  was  engaged  with  great  seeming  interest  in  the 
task  we  have  described — the  articles  alluded  to  consisting 
of  the  clothing  suitable  for  a  female  child  of  tender  age — 
the  little  creature  for  whose  use  it  was  designed  was  sitting 
at  her  feet  tired  of  play,  and  wondering  probably  why  she 
was  employed  in  this  unusual  manner.  Alice  frequently 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  181 

paused  in  her  occupation  to  cast  a  look  upon  the  child — 
not  the  mere  hasty  glance  with  which  a  mother  is  wont  to 
satisfy  herself  that  her  darling  is  for  the  moment  out  of 
mischief  or  danger — but  a  long,  devouring  gaze,  as  though 
the  refreshing  sight  were  about  to  be  removed  for  ever 
from  her  eyes,  and  she  would  fain,  ere  the  evil  moment 
arrived,  stamp  its  image  indelibly  on  her  memory.  Who 
shall  say  what  thoughts,  what  prayers,  were  then  stirring 
in  her  bosom  ? 

The  little  object  of  this  solicitude  had  scarcely  told  her 
fifth  year ;  and  the  soft  ringlets  which  descended  half-way 
down  the  shoulders,  the  delicate  bloom,  the  large,  deep 
blue  eyes  and  flexile  features,  made  such  an  ideal  of 
childish  beauty  as  artists  love  to  paint,  or  sculptors  model. 

When  Alice  had  finished  her  employment,  she  took  the 
little  girl  in  her  arms,  and  strained  her  for  some  moments 
to  her  heart,  with  a  feeling,  as  it  would  seem,  almost  of 
agony.  The  child,  though  at  first  alarmed  at  the  unusual 
vehemence  of  her  caresses,  presently,  as  if  prompted  by 
nature,  smiled  in  reply  to  them.  But  the  artless  prattler 
had  no  power  to  rouse  her  from  some  purpose  on  which 
her  thoughts  appeared  deeply  as  well  as  painfully  intent. 
Putting  the  little  creature  aside  again,  she  drew  near  to 
her  writing-desk,  and,  seating  herself  before  it,  penned  the 
following  letter : 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : 

"  It  is  now  some  weeks  since  the  imprisonment  of  my 
husband  and  father,  who  are  still  awaiting  their  trial. 
The  active  part  which  the  latter  is  known  t9  have  taken 

16 


182  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

in  the  punishment  of  the  late  unhappy  king,  precludes  all 
hope  of  their  pardon.  But  I  have  matured  a  plan  for 
their  escape,  which  I  am  only  waiting  a  fitting  moment  to 
put  into  execution.  When  this  is  effected  we  will  take 
refuge  in  your  American  Colonies.  I  have  the  promise  of 
influential  friends  there  to  assist  in  secreting  us  until  it 
shall  be  safe  to  dwell  among  you  publicly — for  this  country 
can  never  again  be  our  home. 

"  In  the  mean  time,  as  some  friends  are  about  embarking, 
after  a  struggle  with  myself,  I  have  concluded  to  send  my 
little  daughter  in  advance  of  us,  lest  she  might  prove  an 
incumbrance  in  the  way  of  effecting  the  escape  alluded  to, 
inasmuch  as  she  has  already  been  a  great  hindrance  to 
detain  me  at  home  many  hours  from  the  dear  prisoners — 
to  both  of  whom  my  presence  is  so  needful,  especially  to 
my  husband,  who  is  extremely  ill  in  his  confinement. 

"  I  need  not  say  that  I  feel  all  a  mother's  anxiety  in 
parting  with  my  child.  But  I  have  confidence  that  you, 
my  friend,  will  faithfully  supply  my  place  for  as  long  a 
time  as  may  be  necessary.  It  has  occurred  to  me  that  it 
would  be  well  to  let  the  impression  go  abroad  among  you 
that  my  daughter  is  the  young  relative  whom  you  were 
to  receive  by  the  same  vessel,  and  of  whose  recent  death 
you  will  be  apprised.  This  may  shield  her  in  some  mea 
sure  from  the  misfortunes  of  her  family ;  and  I  would  be 
glad,  therefore,  if  you  would  humour  the  innocent  decep 
tion  even  with  all  of  your  household,  until  such  time  as  we 
may  reclaim  her.  With  a  firm  reliance  on  my  heavenly 
Father,  I  commit  my  precious  infant  to  his  protection. 

"ALICE  HEATH." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  183 

She  had  just  concluded,  when  a  servant  appeared  at  the 
door.  "  Some  ladies  and  a  gentleman,  madam,"  said  he, 
"  have  called,  and  are  awaiting  you  in  the  drawing-room. 
They  came  in  a  travelling-carriage,  and  are  equipped  as  if 
for  a  long  journey." 

"Remove  this  trunk  into  the  hall,"  replied  Alice,  "and 
then  say  to  the  visitors  that  I  will  see  them  presently. 
They  have  already  come  to  bear  away  my  darling,"  added 
she  to  herself.  "  I  scarce  thought  that  the  hour  had  yet 
arrived." 

As  she  spoke,  she  set  about  attiring  the  child  with  great 
tenderness,  seemingly  prolonging  the  act  unconsciously  to 
herself. 

"Now  the  Lord  in  heaven  keep  thee,  precious  one!" 
she  exclaimed,  as,  at  length,  the  motherly  act  terminated; 
and  imprinting  on  her  face  a  kiss  of  the  most  ardent  affec 
tion,  though  without  giving  way  to  the  weakness  of  a  single 
tear,  she  bore  her  from  the  chamber. 

We  leave  the  reader  to  imagine  the  last  parting  moments 
between  that  mother  and  her  child.  She  who  had  framed 
the  separation  as  an  act  of  duty,  was  not  one  to  shrink  at 
the  last  moment,  or  betray  any  faintness  of  spirit.  With 
a  nobly  heroic  heart  she  yielded  up  the  young  and  helpless 
treasure  of  her  affections  to  the  guardianship  of  others, 
and  turned  to  expend  her  capacities  of  watchfulness  and 
care  upon  another  object.  How  Avell  she  performed  this 
labour  of  love,  notwithstanding  the  trial  she  had  just  ex 
perienced — how  far  she  succeeded  in  dismissing  the  recol 
lection  of  it  from  her  mind  sufficiently  to  enable  her  to 
sustain  the  weight  of  the  responsibilities  still  devolving 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

upon  her — we  shall  now  have  an  opportunity  to  deter 
mine. 

Within  another  half  hour  Alice  entered  the  cell  of  a 
prison.  It  was  one  of  those  constructed  for  malefactors 
of  the  deepest  cast,  being  partially  under  the  ground,  and 
partaking  of  the  nature  of  a  dungeon.  The  mighty  stones 
of  the  wall  were  green  and  damp,  and,  together  with  the 
cold,  clay  floor,  were  sufficient  of  themselves  to  suggest 
speedy  illness,  and  perhaps  death,  to  the  occupant.  Its 
only  furniture  consisted  of  a  single  wooden  stool,  a  pallet 
of  straw,  and  a  rude  table. 

On  the  pallet  alluded  to  lay  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life, 
his  eyes  closed  in  sleep,  and  the  wan  hue  of  death  upon 
his  countenance.  One  pallid  hand,  delicate  and  small  as 
a  woman's,  rested  upon  the  coarse  coverlet,  while  the  other 
was  placed  beneath  his  head,  from  which  streamed  forth  a 
profusion  of  waving  hair,  now  matted  and  dull,  instead  of 
glossy  and  bright,  as  it  had  been  in  recent  days. 

When  Alice  first  entered,  the  sleeper  was  breathing 
somewhat  disturbedly,  but  as  she  approached  and  bent 
over  him,  and  raising  the  hand  which  lay  upon  the  quilt, 
pressed  it  to  her  lips,  his  rest  suddenly  seemed  to  grow 
calm,  and  a  faint  smile  settled  upon  his  mouth. 

"Thank  God  !"  whispered  she  to  herself,  as  she  replaced 
the  hand  as  quietly  as  she  had  raised  it,  "  my  prayer  is 
heard — the  fever  has  left  him,  and  he  is  fast  recovering." 

Seating  herself  on  the  wooden  stool  by  his  side,  she 
remained  watching  him  with  looks  of  the  most  devoted 
interest  and  affection.  In  about  half  an  hour  he  heaved  a 
deep  sigh,  and,  opening  his  eyes,  looked  around  to  the  spot 
where  she  was  sitting.  / 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  185 

"You  are  a  guardian  angel,  dear  Alice,"  said  he;  "even 
in  my  dreams  I  am  conscious  of  your  presence." 

"  Saving  the  little  time  that  I  must  steal  from  you  to 
bestow  upon  my  poor  father,  I  shall  now  be  ever  present 
with  you,"  answered  Alice.  "I  have  placed  our  little  one 
in  safe-keeping,  and  henceforth,  while  you  remain  here,  I 
shall  have  no  other  care  but  yourself." 

"  Methinks  I  have  already  been  too  much  your  sole 
care,  even  to  the  neglect  of  your  own  health.  Yet,  ex 
cept  that  sad  look  of  sympathy,  you  seem  not  the  worse 
for  the  tending  me,  else  I  might,  indeed,  reproach  myself 
for  this  illness." 

Well  might  William  Heath  say  she  had  nursed  him  with 
unselfish  care,  for  never  had  it  fallen  to  the  lot  of  sick 
man  to  be  tended  with  such  untiring  devotion.  For  weeks 
she  had  watched  his  every  movement  and  look  —  anti 
cipated  his  every  wish — smoothed  his  pillow — held  the 
cup  to  his  parched  lips — soothed  him  with  gentle  and 
sympathizing  words  when  in  pain — cheered  him  when 
despondent — and  seized  only  the  intervals  when  he  slept 
to  perform  her  other  duties  as  a  mother  and  daughter.  It 
is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  it  appeared  to  him  that  she 
had  never  been  absent  from  his  side. 

Gently  repelling  his  insinuation  that  she  had  been  too 
regardless  of  herself,  she  turned  the  conversation  to  a  topic 
which  she  was  conscious  would  interest  and  cheer  him. 

"Continue  to  make  all  speed  with  this  recovery,  which 
has  thus  far  progressed  so  finely,"  said  she,  "for  the  op 
portunity  for  your  escape  from  this  gloomy  place  is  only 

16* 


186  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

waiting  until  your  strength  is  sufficiently  recruited  to  em 
brace  it." 

"That  prospect  it  is  alone,"  replied  the  invalid,  "held 
up  before  me  so  constantly  as  it  has  been  during  my  illness, 
which  has  had  the  power  to  prevent  my  sinking  joyfully 
into  the  grave  from  this  miserable  bed,  rather  than  recover 
to  die  a  more  violent  and  unnatural  death." 

"It  waits  alone  for  your  recovery,  dearest,"  repeated 
his  wife ;  "  and  once  in  the  wild  woods  of  America,  you 
will  be  as  unconfined  and  free  as  her  own  mountain  air, 
till  the  very  remembrance  of  this  dungeon  will  have  passed 
away." 

"Sweet  comforter,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  and 
pressing  it  gratefully,  "  thou  wouldst  beguile  my  thoughts 
thither,  even  before  my  footsteps  are  able  to  follow  them." 

"Thank  me  for  nothing,"  said  Alice;  "I  am  but  selfish 
in  all.  The  rather  return  thanks  to  the  Lord  for  all  his 
mercies." 

"True,  He  is  the  great  fountain  of  goodness,  and  his 
greatest  of  all  blessings  to  me,  Alice,  is  bestowed  in 
thyself." 

"I  fear  thou  art  conversing  too  much,"  said  Alice,  after 
a  moment's  pause,  "and  I  would  not  that  a  relapse  should 
retard  this  projected  escape  a  single  day.  Therefore  I 
will  give  thee  a  cordial,  and  thou  must  endeavour  to  rest 
again." 

So  saying,  she  administered  a  soothing  potion,  and, 
seating  herself  by  his  side,  she  watched  him  until  he  fell 
into  a  peaceful  slumber.  Then,  stealing  so  noiselessly  away 
from  his  pallet  that  her  footsteps  were  inaudible,  she  gently 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  187 

approached  the  door,  and  groped  along  a  gallery — for  it 
was  now  dark — until  she  reached  another  door.  It  com 
municated  with  a  cell  similar  in  all  respects  to  that  we 
have  described. 

Within  this,  before  a  table,  sat  the  figure  of  a  solitary 
man.  He  was  elderly,  but  seemed  more  bent  by  some 
recent  sorrow  than  by  the  actual  weight  of  years ;  yet  his 
brow  was  somewhat  wrinkled,  and  his  locks  in  many  places 
much  silvered  with  gray.  But  his  countenance  was  re 
markable,  for  it  evinced  a  grandeur  and  dignity  of  soul 
even  through  its  trouble.  Beside  him,  upon  the  table, 
burned  a  solitary  candle,  whose  long  wick  shed  a  blue  and 
flickering  light  upon  the  page  of  a  Bible  open  before  him. 

Unlatching  the  door,  Alice  paused,  for  the  clear  and 
deep  voice  of  the  inmate  fell  upon  her  ear:  "Behold, 
happy  is  the  man  whom  God  correcteth :  therefore,  despise 
not  thou  the  chastening  of  the  Almighty:  for  he  maketh 
sore,  and  bindeth  up;  he  woundeth,  and  his  hands  make 
whole.  He  shall  deliver  thee  in  six  troubles:  yea,  in 
seven,  there  shall  no  evil  touch  thee." 

Advancing,  Alice  threw  her  arms  affectionately  round 
the  neck  of  the  person  we  have  described,  and  interrupted 
the  reading,  which,  even  more  than  her  occasional  visits, 
Avas  his  chief  stay  and  solace  in  his  imprisonment. 

"Thou  wilt  rejoice  with  me,  my  father,  that  William  is 
recovering.  All  that  is  needful  now  is  for  him  to  gather 
strength  sufficient  to  quit  this  place.  I  trust  that  ere  six 
weeks  have  elapsed  we  shall  be  on  our  way  to  America." 

"Forget  not,  my  child,  Him  to  whom  thy  thanks  are 


188  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

due  for  thy  husband's  prospect  of  recovery.  Remember 
the  Lord  in  the  midst  of  his  mercies." 

"I  do,  my  father,  and  we  will  return  praises  together 
ere  I  leave  you." 

"Saidst  thou,  Alice,"  asked  the  old  man,  after  a  short 
silence,  "that  before  six  weeks  have  passed  away,  we  may 
be  freed  from  this  prison-house?" 

"Yes,  even  so;  and  I  have  this  day  sent  my  infant  in 
advance  of  us." 

"  The  Lord  hath  indeed  been  gracious  to  us,  my  daughter. 
Let  us  arise  at  once  and  give  thanks  to  his  holy  name." 

At  these  words  they  arose  together,  after  the  manner  of 
their  sect,  and  in  an  earnest,  pathetic  tone,  the  voice  of 
the  aged  Puritan  ascended  to  Heaven.  No  palace  halls  or 
brilliant  ball-rooms,  or  garden  walks,  or  trellised  bowers 
have  ever  shown  so  interesting  a  pair — no  festive  scenes, 
or  gorgeous  revels,  or  glittering  orgies,  ever  rose  upon  so 
beauteous  an  hour  as  did  the  captive's  cell  in  that  season 
of  prayer ! 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  189 


CHAPTER   VII. 

"  A  lovely  child  she  was,  of  looks  serene, 
And  motions  which  on  things  indifferent  shed 
The  grace  and  gentleness  from  whence  they  came." 

SHELLEY. 

"  The  child  shall  live." 

TITUS  ANDRONICUS. 

"  Here  are  two  pilgrims, 
And  neither  knows  one  footstep  of  the  way." 

KEYWORD'S  DUCHESS  OF  SUFFOLK. 

"With  equal  virtue  formed,  and  equal  grace, 
The  same,  distinguished  by  their  sex  alone." 

THOMPSON. 

A  SHORT  gap  in  this  narrative  places  the  present  action 
of  our  story  in  America.  It  is  needless  here  to  narrate 
the  first  settlement  of  the  New  England  Colonies.  The 
landing  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  has  been  immortalized  both 
in  prose  and  verse  until  it  has  become  as  familiar  to  each 
American  as  any  household  word.  We  will  not,  therefore, 
ask  the  reader's  detention  at  the  perusal  of  a  thrice-told 
tale.  It  is  likewise  known  that  that  landing  was  but  the 
herald  of  a  succession  of  immigrations,  and  the  establish 
ment  of  numerous  colonies.  Owing  to  the  talent  and 
liberal  education,  not  less  than  the  enterprise  of  the  early 
settlers,  this  wilderness  was  not  long,  in  spite  of  repeated 
obstacles,  ere  it  grew  up  into  flourishing  villages  and  towns, 
some  of  them  fairer  than  had  ever  graced  the  stalworth 
ground  of  Old  England. 

We  introduce    the   reader   into  one  of  those  villages, 


190  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

situated  some  twenty  miles  distant  from  New  Haven.  It 
might  somewhat  surprise  him  when  we  say,  were  it  not  for 
the  frequent  instances  of  the  rapid  growth  of  cities  in  our 
western  wilds,  which  we  would  remind  him  have  sprung  up 
within  his  own  recollection,  that  the  latter  place  was,  even 
at  the  period  to  which  we  refer,  a  flourishing  and  important 
town.  Yet,  notwithstanding  the  superior  size  and  con 
sequence  of  New  Haven,  the  village  of  L was  the 

place  in  which  the  governor  of  the  colony  chose  to  reside. 
Had  the  course  of  our  narrative  not  led  us  thither,  we 

could  have  selected  no  better  sample  than  L ,  of  the 

truth  of  what  we  have  asserted  regarding  the  existence  of 
neat  and  attractive  villages  in  New  England  at  that  early 
day.  It  was  situated  on  the  highroad,  in  a  small  valley, 
through  which  wound  down  certain  rocky  falls,  a  clear  rivu 
let,  that  afforded  excellent  opportunities  of  fishing  to  such  of 
the  inhabitants  as  were  fond  of  the  occupation  of  the  angle. 
These,  however,  were  few,  for  then,  as  now,  the  people  of 
Connecticut  possessed  much  of  the  same  busy  spirit  which 
is  one  of  their  distinguishing  characteristics.  The  glassy 
brook  alluded  to,  served  yet  another  purpose  during  the 
season  when  the  sportive  inhabitants  of  the  watery  element 
had  disappeared.  In  the  winter-time,  when  thickly  frozen 
over,  it  formed,  out  of  their  school-houses,  the  grand  resort 
of  the  children  of  the  village  for  the  purpose  of  skating 
and  sliding.  There,  at  those  times,  on  a  clear,  bracing 
day,  such  as  no  country  but  New  England  ever  shows  in 
perfection,  might  always  be  seen  a  crowd  of  these  happy 
beings,  of  both  sexes,  and  of  various  ages,  all  collected  to- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  191 

gether,  some  to  partake  and  others  merely  to  observe  the 
amusements  mentioned. 

Upon  a  certain  day,  the  neighbourhood  of  the  brook  was 
thronged  even  to  a  greater  extent  than  usual,  owing  to  the 
exceeding  brightness  of  the  weather,  which  had  led  some 
of  the  tenderest  mothers  to  withhold  their  customary  man 
date  enjoining  immediate  return  from  school,  lest  the  be 
loved  object  of  the  command  might  suffer  from  playing  in 
the  cold.  Among  those  who  had  thus  had  their  ordinary 
restrictions  remitted,  was  a  little  girl,  whose  extreme  love 
liness  must  have  arrested  the  attention  of  any  observer. 
Her  features  were  not  merely  beautiful,  but  there  was  a 
charm  in  her  countenance  more  attractive  still — that  purity 
and  mildness  which  our  fancy  attributes  to  angels.  There 
was  a  bewitching  grace,  moreover,  in  her  attitude  that 
might  have  furnished  delighted  employment  to  the  painter 
and  sculptor,  had  there  been  any  time  or  inclination  among 
the  colonists  to  bestow  upon  the  cultivation  of  the  arts. 

This  child  was  seemingly  about  five  years  old.  She 
was  standing,  with  a  number  of  other  little  ones  of  her 
own  age,  looking  on  with  great  apparent  delight — now  at 
the  larger  boys,  who  were  skating  dexterously,  and  describ 
ing  many  a  circle  and  angle,  unknown  in  mathematics, 
upon  the  smooth  surface  of  the  brook,  and  then  at  a  num 
ber  of  girls  merrily  chasing  each  other  upon  a  slide  at  one 
side. 

As  one  of  the  large  boys  spoken  of  passed  her,  he  said, 
"  Come,  Jessy,  I  will  give  you  a  ride  upon  the  ice ;"  and 
taking  her  in  his  arms,  he  was  soon  again  gliding  rapidly 
along. 


192  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

"  Take  care !"  shouted  a  noble-looking  youth,  whose 
glowing  complexion  and  sparkling  eye  shone  with  the  ex 
citement  of  the  exercise.  "  Take  care,  the  ice  is  slightly 
cracked  there,  and  it  will  scarcely  bear  the  double  weight." 

It  was  too  late.  Ere  the  words  were  well  spoken,  the 
ice  gave  way,  and  the  boy  who  bore  the  fair  burden  sunk 
beneath  the  congealed  element. 

One  loud  shriek  from  the  mingled  voice  of  the  young 
spectators  announced  the  frightful  accident. 

With  the  speed  of  lightning,  the  youth  who  had  uttered 
the  words  of  warning  darted  forward,  and  plunging  under 
the  ice,  disappeared  from  view. 

Great  consternation  prevailed  for  some  moments.  Many 
of  the  children  gave  way  to  loud  cries ;  others  quietly 
wept ;  while  a  few  of  the  older  and  more  considerate  ran 
toward  their  homes,  in  order  to  summon  assistance. 

In  less  time  than  it  has  taken  to  represent  the  state  of 
feeling  which  prevailed  during  his  absence,  Frank  Stanley 
rose  to  the  surface,  bearing  in  his  arms  the  unconscious 
form  of  the  young  creature  he  had  saved.  Recovering  his 
position  on  the  ice,  he  speedily  regained  the  shore,  and 
overcome  with  the  exertion,  laid  her  gently  on  the  ground. 

The  heart  in  his  bosom  was  frozen  with  cold,  but  a 
quickening  thrill  passed  through  it,  boy  as  he  was,  as  he 
gazed  upon  those  sweetly  composed  features.  Her  hair 
was  dripping,  and  her  long,  wet  lashes  lay  upon  her  cheek 
as  quietly  as  upon  that  of  a  dead  child.  Her  garments 
hung  heavily  around  her,  and  her  tiny  hands,  which  were 
half  lost  in  their  folds,  were  cold  and  still,  as  well  as  beau 
tiful  as  gems  of  classic  sculpture. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  193 

As  his  companions  came  up,  bearing  the  other  sufferer, 
Frank  Stanley  hastily  snatched  off  his  own  saturated  coat, 
and  spread  it  over  her  senseless  body,  ere  he  again,  with 
recovered  strength,  raised  her  in  his  arms. 

The  alarmed  villagers  by  this  time  came  flocking  to  the 
spot,  among  whom  was  the  governor  of  the  settlement, 
whose  venerable  and  striking  countenance  manifested  pecu 
liar  anxiety. 

"Your  niece  is  safe,   Governor  H ,"   said  Frank 

Stanley,  pressing  forward  and  exposing  his  fair  burHen. 
"  She  is  merely  insensible  from  fright." 

"Thank  God  that  she  is  saved!"  exclaimed  the  Gover 
nor,  receiving  her  in  his  arms.  "  But  whose  rash  act  was 
it,"  continued  he,  looking  sternly  around  among  the  boys, 
"  that  exposed  my  Jessy  to  such  peril  ?" 

Something  like  a  flush  of  indignation  "passed  over  the 
countenance  of  young  Stanley,  as  he  replied,  "  It  was  an 
accident,  sir,  which  might  have  happened  in  the  hands  of 
more  experienced  persons  than  ourselves." 

"  Thou  hast  been  in  danger  thyself,  Frank,  hast  thou 
not?"  asked  the  Governor,  his  stern  mood  giving  way 
immediately  at  the  sight  of  the  youth's  dripping  clothes. 
"And  is  there  no  one  else  more  dangerously  injured?" 
inquired  he,  casting  an  anxious,  scrutinizing  glance  among 
the  collected  group. 

"Frederic,  here,  is  wet  too,  but  not  otherwise  the 
worse  for  the  accident." 

"  Let  him  and  Frank,  then,  immediately  return  to  their 
homes,  and  don  dry  garments ;  and  I  must  look  to  my 
little  girl  here,  that  she  do  not  suffer  for  this." 

17 


194  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

So  saying,  the  Governor  turned  and  departed,  pressing 
the  little  lifeless  one  more  closely  in  his  arms. 

His  disappearance  was  the  signal  for  the  dispersion  of 
the  group,  the  young  members  of  which  turned  toward 
their  homes,  much  sobered  in  spirits  from  the  accident 
here  related. 

Following  Governor  H.  to  his  home,  we  will  leave  him 
for  a  moment  and  pause  to  describe  that  rustic  dwelling. 
It  was  situated  at  some  little  distance  from  the  main  vil 
lage,  and  was  of  larger  size  than  most  of  the  cottages 
there.  Like  them,  however,  it  bore  the  same  rural  name, 
though  it  looked  more  like  an  English  villa  of  some  pre 
tensions.  On  each  side  of  a  graceful  portico  stretched 
piazzas,  covered  in  summer  with  roses  and  woodbine,  while 
the  neat  enclosure  in  front,  surrounded  by  its  white  paling, 
bloomed  richly  with  American  plants  and  shrubbery.  At 
this  season,  however,  the  roses  were  dead,  and  the  shrub 
bery  lifeless ;  and  the  frozen  ground  of  the  well-kept  walk 
rung  under  the  tread  of  the  stout  governor,  as  he  flung 
open  the  gate  and  rapidly  approached  the  house. 

The  brilliant  lustre  of  the  brass  knocker,  the  white  and 
spotless  door-step,  and  the  immaculate  neatness  of  every 
thing  around,  were  types  of  the  prevailing  habits  of  the 
proprietors. 

At  the  door,  awaiting  Governor  H.'s  arrival,  with  great 
anxiety  depicted  on  their  faces,  stood  two  female  figures, 
the  one  being  a  genteel  matron,  somewhat  advanced  in 
years,  and  the  other  a  young  lady  of  less  than  twenty 
summers. 

"  Relieve  yourselves  of  your  apprehensions,"  said  the 


THE  LADY  OP  THE  ROCK.  195 

Governor,  in  a  loud  voice,  as  soon  as  he  came  within 
speaking  distance.  "  She  had  merely  fainted  from  fright, 
and  seems  to  be  even  now  gradually  recovering." 

"The  Lord  be  praised!"  exclaimed  the  ladies,  advan 
cing  to  the  steps  of  the  portico  to  meet  him. 

They  entered  the  house  together.  In  a  moment  the 
fainting  child  was  laid  upon  a  couch,  and  being  quickly 
attired  in  dry  clothing,  restoratives  were  actively  applied. 
The  elder  female  chafed  her  small,  chilled  palms  in  her 
own,  while  the  younger  administered  a  warm  drink  to  her 
frozen  lips. 

After  a  short  time  she  unclosed  her  eyes,  smiled  faintly, 
and  throwing  her  dimpled  arms  around  the  neck  of  the 
young  lady  who  bent  over  her,  burst  into  tears.  "My 
dear  sister,"  she  said  faintly,  "I  dreamed  that  I  had  gone 
to  heaven,  where  I  heard  sweet  music,  and  saw  little  chil 
dren  like  myself,  with  golden  crowns  upon  their  heads, 
and  beautiful  lyres  in  their  hands." 

"  God  has  not  called  thee  there  yet.  He  has  kindly 
spared  thee  to  us  a  little  longer,"  said  the  young  person 
to  whom  she  spoke,  stooping  down  and  kissing  her  ten 
derly,  while  she,  in  like  manner,  relieved  herself  by  a 
flood  of  tears. 

"  The  Almighty  is  very  merciful,"  said  the  matron, 
wiping  her  eyes,  while  something  like  a  moisture  hung 
upon  the  lashes  of  the  Governor's  piercing  orbs,  and  dimmed 
their  usual  keenness. 

"I  am  not  ill,  uncle,  aunt,  Lucy,  and  we  need  none  of 
us  cry,"  said  the  child,  with  the  fickleness  of  an  April 
day  and  the  elasticity  of  her  years,  instantly  changing  her 


TRUTH  AND  1<'ANCY. 

tears  for  smiles.  "  See,  I  am  able  to  get  up,"  she  added, 
disentangling  herself  from  the  embrace  of  her  whom  she 
had  called  her  sister,  and  sitting  upon  the  side  of  the  couch. 

At  that  moment  a  shadow  without  attracted  her  atten 
tion.  "  There  is  Mr.  Elmore,  Lucy !"  she  exclaimed,  with 
childish  glee. 

The  young  lady  had  barely  time  to  wipe  away  the  traces 
of  her  recent  emotion,  when  a  tall  figure  crossed  the  por 
tico  and  entered  the  room  without  ceremony.  The  new 
comer  was  a  young  man  in  the  bloom  of  youth.  As  he 
entered  he  lifted  his  hat,  and  a  quantity  of  fair  brown  hair 
fell  partially  over  a  commanding  forehead.  His  features 
were  handsome,  and  his  aspect  both  manly  and  prepos 
sessing. 

The  Governor  and  his  wife  advanced  and  greeted  him 
cordially,  while  the  blush  that  mantled  on  the  cheek  of 
Lucy  Ellet,  as  she  half  rose  and  extended  her  hand  to 
him,  told  that  a  sentiment  warmer  than  mere  friendship 
existed  between  them. 

"  Where  is  the  young  heroine  of  this  accident,  which  I 
hear  had  well-nigh  proved  fatal?"  asked  the  stranger, 
after  he  had  exchanged  congratulations  with  the  rest. 

The  little  Jessy,  who  had  at  first  shrunk  away  with  the 
bashfulness  of  childhood,  here  timidly  advanced.  The 
stranger  smiled,  stroked  her  soft  ringlets,  kissed  her  fair 
brow,  and  she  nestled  herself  in  his  breast. 

The  whole  party  drawing  near  the  fire,  an  interesting 
specimen  was  now  exhibited  of  those  social  and  endearing 
habits  of  the  early  settlers  peculiar  to  their  intercourse. 

The  simple  room  and  furniture  were   eloquent  of  the 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  197 

poetry  of  home.  Not  decorated  by  any  appendages  of 
mere  show,  whatever  could  contribute  to  sterling  comfort 
was  exhibited  in  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  good-sized 
apartment.  The  broad,  inviting  couch  on  which  the  res 
cued  child  had  lain  was  placed  opposite  the  chimney.  The 
heavy  book-case,  containing  the  family  library,  occupied  a 
deep  recess  to  the  right.  On  the  left  was  a  side-board, 
groaning  with  plate,  the  remains  of  English  wealth.  The 
large,  round  dining-table,  polished  as  a  mirror,  stood  in  its 
customary  place  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  Two  great 
arm-chairs,  covered  with  chintz  and  garnished  with  rockers 
— the  seats  belonging  to  the  heads  of  the  family — filled  a 
space  on  either  side  of  the  hearth,  within  which  burned  a 
huge  turf  fire,  that  threw  its  kindly  warmth  to  the  remo 
test  walls.  Over  the  mantel-piece  hung  a  full-length 
miniature  portrait  of  the  first  Protector  of  the  British 
Commonwealth.  Coiled  on  a  thick  rug  before  the  fire  lay 
a  large  Angola  cat.  A  mastiff  dog  had  so  far  overcome 
his  natural  antipathy  to  her  race,  as  to  keep  her  company 
on  the  other  side  ;  while  the  loud  breathings  of  both 
evinced  the  depth  of  their  slumbers. 

The  huge  arm-chair  on  the  left  was  the  throne  of  the 
Governor.  There  he  received  and  dispatched  the  docu 
ments  pertaining  to  his  office.  There  also  he  wrote  his 
letters,  read  his  papers,  received  his  visiters,  conversed 
with  his  friends,  and  chatted  with  his  family.  There,  be 
sides,  he  gave  excellent  advice  to  such  of  the  members  of 
the  settlement  as  needed  it ;  and  there,  above  all,  arose 
morning  and  evening  the  voice  of  his  pious  worship. 

The  lesser  arm-chair  on  the  right  was  the  seat  of  Mrs. 

17* 


198  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

H.,  who,  in  like  manner,  had  her  established  routine  of 
duties  which  she  discharged  there,  with  not  less  laudable 
exactness  and  fidelity.  Nor  was  there  at  any  time  a  more 
pleasing  feature  in  the  whole  apartment  than  her  motherly 
figure  and  cheerful  visage  fixed  within  its  comfortable  em 
brace. 

While  the  party  were  agreeably  engaged  in  conversa 
tion  they  were  suddenly  interrupted  by  a  loud  knock  at 
the  door. 

"Who  can  that  be?"  said  the  Governor.  "Will  you 
ask  who  knocks,  Mr.  Elmore?" 

The  latter  rose  and  unlatched  the  door,  when  two  figures 
crossed  the  threshold. 

"Pray  pardon  us,"  said  one  of  the  new  comers,  in  a 
courteous  voice,  "  but  having  business  of  importance  with 
the  Governor,  we  have  ventured  to  intrude,"  and  he  lifted 
his  hat  with  something  of  foreign  urbanity. 

The  speaker  was  not  handsome,  but  there  was  a  certain 
elegance  in  his  air  and  intelligence  in  his  countenance  that 
were  agreeable.  He  was  clad  in  a  velvet  travelling-dress, 
and  possessed  an  address  greatly  superior  to  any  of  the 
villagers,  at  the  same  time  that  his  height  and  the  breadth 
of  his  muscular  limbs  were  calculated  to  induce  that  admi 
ration  which  the  appearance  of  great  strength  in  his  sex 
always  inspires. 

His  companion  was  totally  different  in  all  outward  re 
spects — being  a  man  of  about  fifty  years  of  age,  attired  in  a 
garb  which  was  chiefly  distinguished  by  an  affectation  of 
ill-assorted  finery.  A  coloured  silk  handkerchief,  in  which 
glittered  a  large  paste  brooch,  was  twisted  around  his  neck, 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  199 

and  his  breeches  were  ornamented  with  plated  buckles. 
His  harsh  countenance  was  traced  with  furrows,  while  his 
hair  fell  over  a  low  and  forbidding  brow,  on  which  hung  a 
heavy  frown,  unrelieved  by  any  pleasing  expression  of  the 
other  features. 

"Walk  in,  gentlemen,  and  approach  the  fire,"  said  Go 
vernor  H.,  rising  and  eyeing  the  strangers  with  a  keen  and 
rather  dissatisfied  glance. 

In  drawing  near,  the  younger  gallant  cast  an  unsup- 
pressed  look  of  admiration  upon  Lucy  Ellet,  that  caused 
her  to  bend  down  her  sparkling  eyes,  which  had  previously 
been  fixed  on  himself  and  his  companion  with  an  arch  ex 
pression  of  penetrating  curiosity. 

It  was  not  surprising  that  the  attention  of  the  stranger 
had  been  attracted  by  the  appearance  of  this  young  lady, 
for,  like  the  little  Jessy,  she  was  endowed  with  a  more  than 
ordinary  share  of  personal  attractions.  Yet  it  must  be  ad 
mitted  that  the  styles  of  their  beauty  were  of  an  exactly 
opposite  cast.  One  of  those  singular  freaks  of  Nature 
which  sometimes  creates  children  of  the  same  parents  in 
the  most- dissimilar  mould,  seemed  to  have  operated  in  their 
case,  to  produce  two  sisters  as  unlike  in  every  particular 
relating  to  outward  appearance  as  possible. 

While  the  young  countenance  of  Jessy  was  of  the  ten- 
derest  and  softest  Madonna  cast,  her  eyes  of  a  delicate 
azure,  and  the  light  golden  locks  parted  upon  a  fair  brow, 
like  a  gleam  of  sunshine  upon  a  hill  of  snow,  her  sister's 
face  was  precisely  the  opposite.  Lucy's  complexion,  in 
deed,  was  of  the  darkest  hue  ever  seen  in  maidens  of  Eng 
lish  birth,  yet  mantled  withal  by  so  rich  a  shade  of  colour, 


200  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

that  for  many  it  might  have  possessed  a  greater  charm  than 
the  fairness  of  a  blonde.  Her  hair  was  black  as  night ; 
and  her  eyes,  of  the  same  hue,  were  never  excelled  in  lustre 
or  beauty  by  the  loveliest  damsels  of  Spain.  Her  counte 
nance  was  of  a  lively  and  expressive  character,  in  which 
spirit  and  wit  seemed  to  predominate  ;  and  the  quick  black 
eye,  with  its  beautifully  pencilled  brow,  seemed  to  presage 
the  arch  remark  to  which  the  rosy  and  half-smiling  lip  ap 
peared  ready  to  give  utterance. 

"  We  have  ridden  far,"  said  the  younger  stranger,  break 
ing  the  silence  which  ensued  when  they  had  taken  seats, 
and  turning  his  eye  again  on  Lucy,  as  though  he  hoped  to 
elicit  a  reply  to  his  remark. 

He  was  not  disappointed.  "  May  I  ask,"  said  she,  "  what 
distance  you  have  come?" 

"We  left  Massachusetts  a  couple  of  days  ago,"  he  re 
plied,  "and  have  been  at  hard  riding  ever  since." 

"You  spoke  of  business,  gentlemen,"  remarked  the  Go 
vernor,  rather  impatiently ;  "  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  pro 
ceed  with  the  object  of  your  visit?" 

"I  address  Governor  H.,  sir,  I  presume?"  said  the  ill- 
looking  stranger,  speaking  for  the  first  time. 

He  signified  assent. 

"  Our  business  is  official  and  private,"  continued  the 
speaker,  in  a  voice  harsh  and  unpleasant,  looking  around 
uneasily  at  the  spectators. 

"  All  affairs  with  me  are  conducted  in  the  presence  of  my 
family,"  said  the  Governor  drily. 

"It  is  imperative,  sir,  that  we  see  you  alone,"  urged  the 
other,  in  a  dictatorial  tone. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  KOCK.  201 

"  Will  you  look  whether  there  is  a  good  fire  in  your  little 
sanctum?"  said  her  uncle  to  Lucy,  giving  her  at  the  same 
time  a  significant  glance,  and  having  referred  in  his  remark 
to  a  small  room  adjoining,  where  Lucy  not  unfrequently 
repaired,  surrounded  by  numbers  of  the  village  children — 
with  whom  she  was  a  general  favourite — to  dress  their  dolls, 
cover  their  balls,  and  perform  other  similar  acts.  Here, 
too,  she  retired  for  the  purpose  of  reading,  writing,  and 
other  occasions  of  privacy.  More  than  all,  it  was  the  spot 
sacred  to  an  hour's  conversation  with  Mr.  Elmore,  apart 
from  the  rest  of  the  family,  during  his  visits. 

The  little  Jessy  anticipated  Lucy,  just  as  she  was  rising, 
and  opened  the  door  leading  to  the  room  spoken  of. 

"  The  fire  burns  brightly,  uncle,"  said  the  child. 

"Will  you  walk  in  here  with  me,  gentlemen?"  said  the 
Governor. 

The  two  strangers  rose,  and  Governor  H.  held  the  door 
until  they  had  preceded  him  into  the  room.  Going  in  last, 
he  threw  another  expressive  glance  at  Lucy,  and  followed 
them,  leaving  the  door  ajar. 

Lucy,  with  the  quickness  of  her  character,  read  in  her 
uncle's  look  that  he  wished  her  to  overhear  the  conversa 
tion  about  to  take  place  between  himself  and  his  visiters. 
Moving  her  chair,  therefore,  near  the  half  open  door,  while 
her  lover  was  engaged  in  speaking  with  her  aunt,  and  play 
ing  at  the  same  time  with  the  soft  curls  of  the  fair  Jessy, 
who  was  leaning  on  his  knee,  she  applied  herself  to  listen. 

"  Your  names  first,  gentlemen ;  you  have  not  yet  intro 
duced  yourselves,"  said  her  uncle's  voice. 

"Mr.  Dale,"  replied  the  pleasing  tones  of  the  young 


202  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

stranger  who  had  spoken  on  their  first  entrance,  "and 
Mr.  Brooks." 

"Be  seated,  then,  Messrs.  Dale  and  Brooks,"  observed 
the  Governor,  "  and  have  the  kindness  to  proceed  in  unfold 
ing  the  nature  of  jour  errand." 

"  I  am  the  bearer  of  these  documents  for  you,"  said  the 
harsh  voice  of  him  who  had  been  introduced  as  Mr.  Brooks. 

Lucy  here  heard  the  rattling  of  paper,  as  though  the 
Governor  were  unfolding  a  letter.  He  proceeded  to  read 
aloud : 

"  The  bearers,  James  Brooks  and  Thomas  Dale,  having 
been  empowered  by  his  Majesty,  in  the  enclosed  warrant, 
to  seize  the  persons  of  the  escaped  regicides,  Lisle  and 
Heath,  you  are  hereby  desired,  not  only  to  permit  said 
Brooks  and  Dale  to  make  thorough  search  throughout  your 
colony,  but  likewise  to  furnish  them  with  every  facility  for 
that  purpose ;  it  being  currently  believed  that  the  said  regi 
cides  are  secreted  in  New  Haven. 

"  ENDICOTT, 

"  Governor  of  Massachusetts  Colony." 

There  was  now  again  a  rattling,  as  if  occasioned  by  the 
unfolding  of  paper.  The  Governor  continued : 

"  Whereas,  Henry  Lisle  and  William  Heath,  of  the  city 
of  London,  having  been  confined  under  charge  of  treason 
and  rebellion,  have  made  their  escape — and  whereas  it  is 
believed  they  have  fled  to  our  possessions  in  America,  we 
do  hereby  authorize  and  appoint  our  true  and  loyal  sub 
jects,  James  Brooks  and  Thomas  Dale,  to  make  diligent 
search  throughout  all  the  New  England  colonies  for  the 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  203 

said  traitors  and  rebels.  Moreover,  we  do  hereby  command 
our  subjects,  the  governors  and  deputy-governors  of  said 
colonies,  to  aid  and  abet,  by  all  possible  means,  their  cap 
ture  and  imprisonment :  And  we  do  hereby  denounce  as 
rebels  any  who  may  secrete  or  harbour  said  Lisle  and  Heath, 
in  the  accomplishing  of  this  our  royal  mandate." 

Lucy  heard  her  uncle  clear  his  throat  after  he  had  ceased 
reading,  and  there  was  a  moment's  pause. 

"It  will  be  impossible,"  said  he  at  length,  "Messrs. 
Brooks  and  Dale,  for  me  to  act  officially  in  this  matter  until 
I  have  convened  the  magistrates  of  the  colony." 

"I  see  no  necessity  for  anything  of  the  kind,"  said  Mr. 
Brooks,  in  an  irritated  tone. 

"Nevertheless,  there  exists  a  very  great  necessity,"  an 
swered  the  Governor,  decidedly ;  "  so  much  so  that,  as  I 
have  said,  it  will  be  utterly  out  of  the  question  for  me  to 
proceed  independently  in  relation  to  the  affair." 

"How  soon,  then,  can  this  convocation  be  summoned?" 

"  Not  certainly  before  twenty-four  hours  from  this  time," 
replied  the  Governor,  "  or  perhaps  a  day  later.  You  are 
aware  that  the  meeting  will  have  to  take  place  in  New 
Haven,  which  is  twenty  miles  distant." 

"  We  might  easily  proceed  there  at  once,  and  reach  the 
place  in  time  to  call  a  convention,  and  settle  the  affair  to 
night,"  urged  Mr.  Brooks,  dictatorially. 

"  I  am  a  slow  man,  and  cannot  bring  myself  to  be  in  a 
hurry.  One  night  can  make  no  possible  difference,  and  to 
morrow  I  will  call  a  meeting  of  the  magistrates." 

Lucy  here  arose,  and  approached  a  door  leading  to  the 
outer  piazza.  Her  lover's  eye  followed  her  graceful  figure 


204  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

with  a  feeling  of  pride  as  she  crossed  the  room.  She  turned 
at  the  door,  and  seeking  his  eye  ere  she  closed  it,  gave  him 
a  signal  to  follow  her. 

In  some  surprise,  he  instantly  obeyed. 

"Henry,"  she  said,  earnestly  and  in  a  low  voice,  as  if 
fearing  that  some  one  might  chance  to  be  near,  "  Henry,  I 
have  overheard  what  has  passed  between  my  uncle  and  his 
visiters.  The  latter  are  persons  commissioned  by  King 
Charles  to  apprehend  the  escaped  prisoners  who  have  taken 
refuge  in  New  Haven.  They  wish  to  obtain  authority  for 
their  arrest  and  re-imprisonment,  as  well  as  for  making  a 
strict^  search  throughout  the  colony,  and  will  probably  ob 
tain  this  to-morrow.  What  do  you  think  can  be  done  in 
this  emergency?" 

"I  scarce  know  what  to  say,  dear  Lucy,"  said  he,  as  he 
took  her  hand  involuntarily,  and  seemed  to  be  reflecting 
deeply  on  her  words. 

"  Could  not  you,"  resumed  Lucy,  "  return  at  once  to 
New  Haven,  and  apprise  the  exiles  of  their  danger?" 

"Excellent !  I  will  set  out  at  once." 

"  I  have  thought  of  a  place  of  security  for  them  like 
wise,"  continued  Lucy,  and  she  drew  nearer  and  whispered 
a  word  in  his  ear. 

"Admirable  girl!"  exclaimed  her  lover,  delightedly. 
"  Why,  Lucy,  I  believe  you  are  inspired  by  the  Almighty 
for  the  exigencies  of  this  moment.  But  I  must  depart 
without  delay." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lucy,  "  there  is  not  an  instant's  time  to  be 
lost ;  and  I  will  contrive  to  detain  the  officers  until  you  are 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  205 

too  far  on  your  way  for  them  to  overtake  you,  in  case  they 
should  design  proceeding  to  New  Haven  to-night." 

He  pressed  her  hand  affectionately  to  his  lips,  and  was 
gone. 

Lucy  returned  into  the  room  she  had  left  just  at  the 
moment  that  her  uncle  and  the  strangers  re-entered. 

"Your  visitors,  uncle,  will  probably  remain  and  take 
some  refreshment,"  said  she,  as  she  perceived  they  were 
about  to  depart,  and  giving  him  at  the  same  time  an  arch 
look  to  second  her  invitation.  "  Tea  will  be  in  in  a  short 
time,  gentlemen,"  she  added,  fixing  her  eyes  on  the  younger 
stranger  with  such  a  coquettish  urgency  as  to  make  her 
appeal  irresistible. 

"  Take  seats,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Governor,  in  a  more 
cordial  tone  than  he  had  yet  assumed. 

"I  thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Brooks,  "but  we  will — " 

"We  will  remain,"  interrupted  Mr.  Dale,  giving  a  wink 
to  his  companion,  and  turning  toward  the  fire. 

Mr.  Brooks  had  no  alternative  but  to  follow  his  example ; 
and  the  Governor  and  his  wife  held  him  in  conversation, 
while  Lucy  exerted  all  her  powers  of  entertainment  for  the 
benefit  of  Mr.  Dale.  The  little  Jessy,  more  wearied  than 
usual  in  consequence  of  her  late  adventure,  fell  asleep  upon 
the  couch,  and  did  not  awake  until  tea  was  over,  and  the 
visitors  had  departed. 

True  to  his  promise,  early  on  the  following  morning 
Governor  H.  set  out  for  New  Haven,  and  convened  the 
magistrates  of  the  colony.  After  a  short  consultation,  the 
determination  was  arrived  at,  that  the  exiled  regicides  not 
having  violated  any  of  the  laws  by  which  the  community 

18 


206  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

was  governed,  were  not  subject  to  arrest  under  their  order. 
But  to  that  part  of  the  mandate  authorizing  a  search  to  be 
made,  and  prohibiting  a  secretion  of  the  offenders,  they  paid 
loyal  respect,  and  the  sanctity  of  every  house  was  resigned 
and  exposed  to  the  inquisition  of  the  officers.  Their  search, 
however,  was  unsuccessful,  and  they  set  out  the  next  morn 
ing  on  their  return  to  Massachusetts. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  207 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

"  Which  sloping  hills  around  enclose, 
Where  many  a  beech  and  brown  oak  grows, 
Beneath  whose  dark  and  branching  bowers 
Its  tide  a  far-famed  river  pours, 
By  Nature's  beauties  taught  to  please, 
Sweet  Tusculan  of  rural  ease." 

WAKTON. 

"  Have  I  beheld  a  vision  ?" 

OLD  PLAY. 

THE  gentle  breath  of  spring-time  was  now  stirring  in  L. 
The  trees  had  begun  to  blossom,  the  flowers  to  bud,  and  the 
tender  grass  to  spring  up  beneath  the  tread.  Birds  were 
returning  from  exile,  and  fishes  were  re-peopling  the  village 
rivulet.  Nature,  in  short,  was  assuming  her  most  attrac 
tive  and  becoming  dress — that  attire  which  many  a  wor 
shipper  has  celebrated  in  songs  such  as  not  the  gaudiest 
birthnight  garb  of  any  other  queen  has  ever  elicited.  After 
these,  it  is  not  we  who  dare  venture  to  become  her  laureate 
on  the  occasion  referred  to,  when  she  outshone  herself  in 
that  gentle  season,  in  the  balminess  of  her  breath  and  the 
brightness  of  her  sky,  as  well  as  in  all  those  other  particu 
lars  which  are  dependent  upon  these.  Those  who  have 
lived  the  longest  may  recall  every  return  of  spring  within 
their  recollection,  and  select  the  fairest  of  the  hoard,  but 
it  will  still  refuse  comparison  with  the  spring  of  which  we 
speak. 

The  pretty  English  custom  of  children  celebrating  the 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

first  of  May  by  an  excursion  into  the  country  had  been 
preserved  among  the  colonists.  On  that  day,  from  every 
village  and  town  a  flock  of  these  happy  beings,  dressed 
with  uncommon  attention,  and  provided  with  baskets, 
might  be  seen  merrily  departing  on  one  of  these  picnic 
rambles.  Every  excursion  of  this  kind  was  not  merely  an 
event  in  the  future,  but  an  epoch  in  the  past.  The  recol 
lection  of  each  successive  May-day,  treasured  up  through 
out  the  following  year,  never  became  so  swallowed  up  in 
that  which  came  after  it,  that  it  did  not  preserve  in  its 
own  associations  and  incidents  a  separate  place  in  the 
memory. 

But  an  occurrence  transpired  on  the  May-day  of  which 
we  are  about  to  speak,  for  the  little  villagers  of  L.,  calcu 
lated  to  fix  it  indelibly  on  their  remembrance.  The  morn 
ing  rose  as  serene  and  clear  as  if  no  pleasure  excursion 
had  been  intended.  A  large  party  of  children  set  out 
from  their  homes  on  the  day  alluded  to.  This  was  com 
posed,  with  very  few  exceptions  and  additions,  of  the  same 
group  which  tad  been  collected  the  previous  winter  about 
the  frozen  brook  on  the  day  of  the  accident  to  the  young 
niece  of  the  governor. 

The  utmost  harmony  and  good  conduct  prevailed  among 
the  youthful  corps,  which  was  generalled  by  the  sage  and 
skilful  Lucy  Ellet,  who,  in  order  to  preserve  order  on  all 
festive  occasions,  lent  the  young  people  her  decorous  ex 
ample,  and  the  experience  of  her  superior  years.  The 
young  procession  made  a  beautiful  appearance  as  it  wound 
along  the  verdant  banks  of  the  village  rivulet,  and  was  lost 
among  the  neighbouring  hills. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  KOCK.  209 

The  spot  selected  as  the  place  of  rendezvous  was  an 
umbrageous  woods  in  a  green  valley,  surrounded  by 
various  rocky  hills  of  considerable  height,  rising  in  some 
places  one  above  another  with  great  regularity,  the  highest 
apparently  touching  the  horizon,  and  the  progressive  as 
cent  seeming  like  a  ladder  of  approach  to  the  sky.  The 
cavities  and  crevices  of  these  hills  were  numerous,  serving 
as  excellent  retreats  for  the  children  in  their  game  of  hide- 
and-seek,  as  well  as  for  the  retirement  of  separate  groups 
apart  from  each  other.  This  vicinity  had,  therefore,  for 
years  been  the  stated  resort  on  May-day  occasions ;  yet 
not  alone  for  the  advantages  mentioned,  since  the  shady 
grove  attached  to  it,  well  cleared  beneath  the  tread,  might 
of  itself  have  been  sufficient  cause  for  its  selection.  Even 
in  winter  it  was  a  sheltered  and  sequestered  spot;  but  when 
arrayed  in  the  verdure  of  spring,  the  earth  bringing  forth 
all  her  wild  flowers,  the  shrubs  spreading  their  wealth  of 
blossoms  around  it,  and  the  thick  branches  interweaving 
their  leaves  to  intercept  the  sun,  it  was  a  peculiarly  ap 
propriate  place  for  the  purpose  in  question.  If  a  gardener 
would  have  deplored  the  opportunities  of  embellishment 
which  had  been  here  suffered  to  lie  undeveloped,  a  true 
lover  of  scenery  would  have  been  glad  that  the  wild  and 
picturesque  spot  had  been  left  undisturbed  by  the  hands 
of  industry  or  art.  The  situation  had  been  first  dis 
covered,  and  its  aptitude  for  the  purpose  which  it  served, 
pointed  out  by  Lucy  Ellet,  ever  interested,  since  she  had 
emerged  from  her  own  childhood,  in  considering  the  hap 
piness  and  pleasure  of  the  little  community. 

18* 


210  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

On  the  day  in  question  it  was  therefore  remarked  as 
somewhat  strange  that  that  young  lady  strove  to  exert 
her  influence  in  prevailing  on  the  party  to  turn  another 
way,  expending  much  eloquence  in  extolling  the  superior 
advantages  of  a  spot  of  ground  situated  in  an  opposite 
direction.  The  former  prejudice  in  favour  of  the  other 
prevailed,  and  the  assemblage  repaired  thither  as  usual. 

In  this  glade  the  forest  trees  were  somewhat  wildly 
separated  from  each  other,  and  the  ground  beneath  was 
covered  with  a  carpet  of  the  softest  and  loveliest  green, 
that,  being  well  shaded  from  the  heat  of  the  sun,  was  as 
beautifully  tender  as  such  spots  are  in  the  milder  and 
more  equable  climes  of  the  South. 

The  morning  was  occupied  in  crowning  and  doing 
honour  to  the  lovely  little  Jessy  Ellet,  who  had  been 
unanimously  chosen,  according  to  a  custom  prevalent,  the 
queen  of  the  day.  At  noon  dinner  was  served  upon  the 
grass  from  the  contents  of  the  various  baskets,  and  the 
afternoon  passed  in  the  customary  sports. 

It  had  been  noticed  by  such  of  the  children  as  were  old 
enough  to  be  in  any-wise  observant,  that  Lucy  Ellet,  so 
far  from  busying  herself  as  usual  to  devise  rambles  among 
the  hills  and  promote  diversity  of  amusement,  would  have 
used  her  persuasions  to  detain  the  young  people  the  whole 
day  in  the  grove.  Her  amiable  disposition,  however,  pre 
vented  her  from  employing  positive  authority  in  restrain 
ing  their  footsteps,  and  she  had  been  obliged,  however 
regretfully,  to  behold  them  wander  abroad  at  their  plea 
sure. 


THE  LADY  OP  THE  ROCK.  211 

When  the  members  of  the  scattered  assemblage  were 
re-collecting  around  her,  late  in  the  afternoon,  previous  to 
their  return  home,  she  anxiously  scanned  their  several 
countenances  as  they  appeared,  as  if  to  detect  whether 
any  individual  had  made  an  unusual  or  curious  discovery. 
She  seemed  satisfied,  at  length,  that  this  was  not  the  case, 
and  evinced  extreme  satisfaction  when,  a  little  before 
sunset,  the  party  set  out  on  their  return  to  L. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far,  however,  ere  it  was  disco 
vered  that  the  young  May-queen  was  missing  from  the 
party.  In  small  alarm,  they  retraced  their  steps,  expect 
ing  to  find  her  fallen  asleep  under  the  trees  where  they 
had  dined.  But  on  arriving  at  the  spot  she  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  Her  name  was  next  loudly  called,  yet  there 
was  no  reply.  Apprehension  now  seized  every  member  of 
the  young  party,  who  dispersed  in  various  directions  in 
search  of  the  lost  child. 

Frank  Stanley,  the  youth  who,  it  will  be  remembered, 
had  once  been  her  preserver  from  a  watery  grave,  evinced 
especial  uneasiness  at  her  singular  absence,  and  was,  per 
haps — her  sister  excepted,  whose  anxiety  amounted  almost 
to  frenzy — the  most  active  in  his  endeavours  to  discover 
her.  Separating  himself  entirely  from  the  rest,  he  climbed 
among  the  rocky  hills,  and  searched  in  every  nook  and 
cavity,  at  the  same  time  shouting  her  name  until  his  voice 
was  drowned  in  the  resounding  echoes. 

At  length  he  had  given  up  his  search  in  despair,  and 
was  in  the  act  of  descending,  when  he  heard  a  soft  call 
from  behind  him.  He  turned,  and  on  a  higher  hill  than 


212  TRUTH  A>TD  FASCT. 

any  of  the  young  villagers  bad  ever  been  known  to  climb, 
»U  etched  omt  mpon  its  side  in  calmness  sleeping,  lay  the 
fair  object  of  his  search  I  On  the  rock  above  her.  round 
which  the  dew  of  evening  had  gathered  die  thickest,  he 
beheld  standing,  apparently  to  keep  watch  upon  the  child's 
snmbers,  a  foil-grown  female  figure.  This  form,  reflected 
against  tike  sky,  appeared  rather  the  undefined  lineaments 
of  a  spirit  than  a-  mortal,  for  her  person  seemed  as  light 
and  almost  as  transparent  as  the  thin  cloud  of  mist  that 
surrounded  her.  The  smoky  fight  of  the  setting  sun  gave 
a  hazy,  dubious,  and,  as  it  were,  phantom-like  appearance 
to  the  strange  apparition.  He  had  scarcely  time,  however, 
to  note  this,  ere  she  vanished  from  his  view,  so  suddenly 
and  mysteriously,  that  he  could  hardly  distinguish  whether 
he  had  been  subjected  to  a  mere  illusion  of  the  senses,  or 
whether  be  bad  actually  seen  the  aerial  figure  we  have 
described.  Yet  he  could  in  no  other  wise  account  for  the 
voice  be  bad  beard,  except  by  ascribing  it  to  the  same 
vague  form,  lor  the  child  was  evidently  in  too  deep  a  sleep 
to  hare  uttered  any  sound.  Doubtful  what  to  believe  in 
regard  to  this  phantom-image,  and  in  that  perplexed  state 
natural  to  one  not  willing  to  believe  that  his  sight  had 
deceived  him,  ere  he  yielded  himself  up  to  the  joy  of 
recovering  Jessy  EHet,  whom  be  loved  with  the  depth  and 
ii  ii  alii  in1  if  of  more  mature  age,  he  hastily  climbed  to  the 
spot  where  it  bad  appeared.  There  was  no  trace,  however, 
of  the  vision  to  be  seen.  It  had  melted  again  into  that 
air  from  which  it  bad  seemed  embodied.  Immediately 
be  lifted  *^  slumbering  child,  whom  he 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  BOCK.  213 

had  found  a4  last,  and  imprinting  a  kiss  vpon  her  face, 
proceeded  to  bear  her  down  the  hilL 

On  reaching  the  valley,  he  found  the  rest  of  die  party 
collected  in  the  grove,  after  an  unsuccessful  search,  in 
great  anxiety  awaiting  his  return. 


'214  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


"  Night  wanes — the  vapours  round  the  mountain  curled 
Melt  into  morn,  and  light  awakes  the  world. 
Man  has  another  day  to  swell  the  past, 
And  lead  him  near  to  little  but  his  last." 

BYRON'S  LARA. 

"  The  double  night  of  ages,  and  of  her, 
Night's  daughter,  Ignorance,  hath  wrapt  and  wraps 
All  round  us;  we  but  feel  our  way  to  err!" 

CHILDE  HAROLD'S  PILGRIMAGE. 


THE  adventure  of  young  Stanley,  recorded  in  the  last 
chapter,  made  a  strong  impression  on  his  mind.  The 
more  he  reflected  on  what  he  had  beheld,  the  more  he 
became  convinced  that  it  was  no  mere  conjuration  of  his 
fancy.  Nothing  in  his  feelings  at  the  moment,  absorbed 
as  they  were  with  thoughts  of  the  little  truant  he  had 
been  seeking,  could  have  suggested  to  his  imagination  the 
image  which  arose  before  him.  That  it  was  an  embodi 
ment  of  some  kind  he  became  therefore  convinced,  though 
he  could  not  believe  either  that  it  was  human,  when  he 
remembered  the  sudden  and  mysterious  manner  of  its  dis 
appearance. 

Frank  Stanley  was  by  nature  neither  timorous  nor  cre 
dulous,  and  a  course  of  reading,  more  extensive  than  usual 
for  boys  at  his  age,  had  in  some  degree  fortified  his  mind 
against  the  attacks  of  superstition ;  but  he  would  have  been 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  215 

an  actual  prodigy,  if,  living  in  New  England  in  the  end  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  he  had  possessed  a  philosophy 
which  did  not  exist  there  until  much  later.  Those,  there 
fore,  who  will  recall  to  mind  the  superstitious  feelings  at 
that  time  prevalent  among  the  early  settlers,  will  not  be 
surprised  that  our  youthful  hero  should  have  closed  his 
reflections  with  the  conviction  that  he  had  beheld  a  super 
natural  visitant.  That  its  mission,  however,  was  not  an 
unholy  one  he  might  have  believed,  when  he  recollected 
that  he  had  seen  it  keeping  watch  over  the  lost  child  of 
his  boyish  love,  and  that  its  voice  had  been  the  means  of 
directing  him  to  the  spot  where  she  lay.  But  he  had  so 
strongly  imbibed  the  common  idea  that  all  supernatural 
indications  were  demonstrations  of  the  Evil  One,  that  his 
cogitations  the  rather  resolved  themselves  into  fears  that 
she  who  had  been  so  guarded  by  one  of  his  emissaries, 
though  in  the  form  of  the  being  of  light  that  he  had 
beheld,  was  marked  out  as  a  victim  of  future  destruction. 

This  idea  became  agony  to  the  sensitive  mind  of  the 
boy,  whose  heart  had  outstripped,  in  a  great  measure,  his 
years,  and  was  fixed  with  sentiments  of  strong  attachment 
upon  the  little  girl.  He  determined,  therefore,  to  keep 
constant  watch  upon  the  child's  movements,  and  should  he 
behold  her  again  in  the  hands  of  the  tempter,  by  timely 
warning  to  her  sister  to  enlist  her  in  attempts  to  destroy 
the  power  of  the  enemy  by  fasting  and  prayer. 

Thoughts  of  the  kind  described  had  disturbed  Stanley's 
mind  during  the  whole  night  succeeding  his  adventure, 
and  caused  him  the  first  sleepless  pillow  he  had  ever 
known.  He  rose  earlier  than  usual  the  next  day.  Feel- 


216  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

ing  languid  from  want  of  his  customary  rest,  he  walked 
out  to  recover  his  freshness  in  the  morning  air.  Even  to 
those  who,  like  Stanley,  have  spent  a  sleepless  and  anxious 
night,  the  breeze  of  the  dawn  brings  strength  and  quicken 
ing  both  of  mind  and  body.  He  bent  his  steps  involunta 
rily  toward  the  place  of  the  previous  day's  innocent  revel. 

The  day  was  delightful.  There  was  just  enough  motion 
in  the  air  to  disturb  the  little  fleecy  clouds  which  were 
scattered  on  the  horizon,  and  by  floating  them  occasionally 
over  the  sun,  to  checker  the  landscape  with  that  variety  of 
light  and  shade  which  often  gives  to  a  bare  and  unenclosed 
scene,  a  species  of  charm  approaching  to  the  varieties  of  a 
cultivated  and  planted  country. 

When  Stanley  had  reached  the  borders  of  the  grove  in 
which  the  party  had  dined,  he  cast  his  eyes  upward  on 
the  hills  where  he  had  climbed  in  search  of  Jessy  Ellet. 
Curiosity  suggested  to  him  to  ascend  again  to  the  spot 
where  he  had  beheld  the  strange  apparition.  Fear  for 
himself  knew  no  place  in  his  brave  young  soul.  He  felt 
that  his  virtuous  and  strong  heart  was  even  proof  against 
the  power  of  Satan  and  his  agents.  He  proceeded,  there 
fore,  to  remount  the  hills,  in  hopes  that  he  might  again 
behold  the  shadowy  spirit,  and  perchance  have  time  to 
question  it  of  its  errand  to  earth,  ere  it  a  second  time  dis 
appeared.  When  he  arrived  beneath  the  well-remembered 
rock,  he  raised  his  eyes,  more  however  in  the  expectation 
of  being  disappointed  in  the  object  of  his  quest,  than  with 
any  actual  idea  of  meeting  a  return  of  his  former  vision. 

It  was  consequently  with  the  astonishment  of  one  utterly 
unprepared,  that  he  beheld,  standing  upon  the  rocky  eleva- 


THE  LIA.DY  OF  THE  ROCK.  217 

tion,  the  same  figure  of  the  mist  which  had  filled  his  waking 
dreams  throughout  the  night.  The  sudden  sight  took  from 
him,  for  the  instant,  both  speech  and  motion.  It  seemed 
as  if  his  imagination  had  raised  up  a  phantom  presenting 
to  his  outward  senses  the  object  that  engrossed  his  mind. 
She  seemed  clad  in  white,  and  her  hair  of  threaded  gold, 
while  her  complexion  looked  radiant  and  pure  through  the 
rising  beams  that  reflected  upon  it.  In  the  morning  vapour 
she  appeared  even  more  transparent  than  in  the  sunset 
dew;  so  much  so,  that  the  broken  corner  of  the  rock  which 
she  had  chosen  for  her  pedestal,  would  have  seemed  unsafe 
for  any  more  substantial  figure  than  her  own.  Yet  she 
rested  upon  it  as  securely  and  lightly  as  a  bird  upon  the 
stem  of  a  bush.  The  sun,  which  was  rising  exactly  opposite, 
shed  his  early  rays  upon  her  shadowy  form  and  increased 
its  aerial  effect.  Internal  and  indefinable  feelings  re 
strained  the  youth  from  accosting  her,  as  he  had  thought 
to  have  done.  These  are  easily  explained,  on  the  suppo 
sition  that  his  mortal  frame  shrunk  at  the  last  moment 
from  an  encounter  with  a  being  of  a  different  nature. 

As  the  boy  gazed,  spell-bound,  he  observed  that  this 
being  of  the  vapour  was  not  alone.  Ere  long,  however,  he 
became  aware  that  near  her,  in  the  middle  of  the  rock, 
where  the  footing  was  more  secure,  stood  another  form. 
Fixing  his  bewildered  gaze  steadily  upon  this  second  object, 
in  order  to  scan  it  as  carefully  as  he  had  done  the  other, 
he  became  convinced  that  it  was  a  familiar  figure.  For  a 
moment  his  memory  failed  him,  and  he  could  not  place 
that  round  and  coquettish  form,  with  its  garb  of  rich  pink, 
nor  that  face,  with  its  sparkling  eyes  of  jet,  and  its  raven 

19 


218  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

braids.  His  doubt,  however,  lasted  but  for  an  instant. 
It  was  Lucy  Ellet  whom  he  beheld.  She  perceived  his 
proximity  before  her  companion,  for,  turning  to  the  phan 
tom-form,  she  pointed  to  him  just  as  he  himself  was  about 
to  speak.  Ere  his  words  were  uttered,  the  misty  figure 
had  vanished  from  her  side,  and  she  remained  upon  the 
rock  alone. 

Awe-struck,  the  youth  turned  to  depart.  "Both  the 
sisters,  then,  thought  he,  are  in  league  with  this  spirit- 
messenger  of  darkness.  Alas!  each  so  fair  in  their  dif 
ferent  styles,  so  idolized  in  the  village,  one  of  whom,  too, 
I  have  treasured  up  her  childish  image  in  my  heart,  and 
mixed  it  with  all  my  young  dreams  of  the  future!"  He 
perceived,  moreover,  that  such  an  association  as  he  had 
witnessed  with  the  emissaries  of  evil,  might  not  only  be  a 
soil  upon  the  virtue  of  Lucy  and  Jessy  Ellet,  but  a  lasting 
disgrace  to  their  names,  should  the  knowledge  of  it  come 
to  the  ears  of  the  pious  community.  Congratulating  him 
self  that  he  alone  was  privy  to  the  unhappy  circumstance, 
he  was  wending  his  way  down  the  declivity  when  his 
meditations  were  interrupted  by  the  gay  voice  of  Lucy 
Ellet  behind  him. 

"Out  on  your  vaunted  politeness,  Master  Frank,  to 
trudge  down  hill  in  front  of  a  lady,  and  never  turn  to  offer 
her  your  arm." 

"Excuse  me,  Miss  Lucy,"  replied  Stanley,  stopping  and 
much  embarrassed,  "  methought  you  would  not  desire  to  be 
troubled  with  my  company." 

"I  honour  your  delicacy,  Frank,"  resumed  Lucy,  taking 
his  arm,  as  they  walked  on.  "  You  saw  me  but  now  in 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  219 

circumstances  which  you  rightly  judge  I  intended  to  he 
secret,  and  would  not  mortify  me  by  forcing  me  to  meet 
you  just  at  the  moment  of  my  detection." 

After  an  instant's  pause,  she  continued.  "I  will  let 
you  into  the  secret,  Frank,  for  there  may  one  day  be  need 
to  employ  your  services ;  and  I  am  sure  I  may  rely  on  your 
judgment  and  discretion  not  to  divulge  what  I  shall  unfold. 
Your  occasional  assistance  is  the  only  return  I  demand  for 
my  confidence.  Yon  stranger  lady  is — " 

"Hold,  Miss  Ellet,  I  cannot  consent  to  obtain  any 
knowledge  of  your  secret  under  the  condition  that  I  am  to 
become  a  party  in  the  sinful  affair.  I  will  not  unite  in 
league  with  any  daughter  of  the  clouds  or  spirit  of  dark 
ness." 

"  Then  you  deem  her  whom  you  saw  beside  me  on  the 
rock  one  of  those  visionary  beings  you  mention?"  asked 
Lucy,  looking  at  him  steadily,  to  learn  if  he  were  in 
earnest,  and  an  arch  smile  curling  on  her  mouth,  and 
sparkling  in  her  eyes,  when  she  perceived  that  he  had 
spoken  seriously. 

"What  else  can  I  think  of  one  who  hath  scarce  the 
weight  of  a  feather,  is  transparent  as  a  cloud,  and  dis- 
solveth  in  a  moment  into  air?" 

Lucy  Ellet  here  laughed  outright.  But  instantly  check 
ing  herself  and  looking  grave,  she  replied,  in  a  mysterious 
tone,  "I  have,  indeed,  a  strange  associate  in  yonder  lady 
of  the  mist.  And  you  positively  decline  an  introduction 
to  her?" 

"I  did  not  think  thou  wouldst  thus  seek  to  destroy 
others  as  well  as  thyself,  Miss  Ellet.  Is  it  through  thine 


thai  thy  sister  has  been  made  acquainted  with  the 
pOjprifc]  ' 

"Ofc,  thoa  fearest  for  her,  dost  thoaf  said  Lucy,  mis- 
the  opportunity  of  taramg  the  eonver- 
"Tfcom  wouldst  lave  her  kept  ntifnlrrtfi  from  sin 
that  she  vay  be  thine  when  thoa  art  a  man.  eh. 
Frank?     3tay,  ywi  aeed  act  hbsh,  though  you  see  I  read 


Stanley's  thuaf^tii  were  now  completely  directed  from 
Ac  first  topic  of  rt»TTT matitMi,  and  tn^tr"g  on  indifferent 
•dhJLLitti,  laej  EDet  aad  hLsatlf  catered  the  rfflage. 


CHAPTER   X. 


CEOLT. 


To  1  -  iJey's  congrarthrioiM  tint  he 
of  the  communication  held  by  Lucy  EBet  aa 
with  the  mystonoBS  creature  whom  he  had 
destined  to  be  of  long  duration.  The  la-dy  of  the 
was  soon  beheld  by  various  other  petauai  of  the  viftigr  at 
different  times — and  the  Hmmuted  Reck  hm»f  am  object 
of  universal  dread.  The  roaoar,  •utewa,  speedfly  grew 
rife  that  the  object  of  her  liiil  ripm  was  to  hold 


• 

colony.  These,  therefore,  from  having  hem  the,  idols  of 
all  classes  in  the  place,  became  aalijiiciu  of  cariosity  aad 
vague  apprehension. 

•; 

ch%* |us  which  makes  us  icgict  her  bawBhaMSBt  ia  a  state 
of  society  enlightened  by  rcaaoa  and  eaWalina).  Her  sja- 
tem  of  imaginary  terras  had  nnaaHaiag  errkittg  to  minds 
fond  of  feeding  upon  the  marrefloBS.  This  is  especially 
one  with  regard  to  the  lighter  forms  in  which  she  some 
times  appeared  when  Hartame-teQers  were  introduced  at 
pan  of  the  anutsei&ents  of  the  age,  aad  their 

:;••*• 


222  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

garded  as  serious  and  prophetic  earnest.  But,  as  we  have 
seen,  none  of  the  lighter  forms  by  which  imagination 
works  upon  her  subjects  were  here  indulged  as  the  food  of 
a  wild  and  wayward  fancy.  Their  belief,  though  not  less 
erroneous,  was  founded  on  the  records  of  that  page  which 
cannot  lie,  and  which  warned  them  of  the  existence  of  one 
great  and  mighty  spirit  of  evil,  wandering  to  and  fro  in 
the  earth,  and  seeking  to  decoy  the  souls  of  mankind  to 
his  abode  of  darkness.  The  object  of  this  dread  was  no 
other  than  he  who  had  once  stood  high  in  Heaven,  and 
afterward  became  prince  of  the  powers  of  Hell. 

Recollecting  that  the  wiles  of  this  same  adversary  prac 
tised  upon  the  mother  of  our  race,  had  become  the  means 
of  expelling  her  from  the  bowers  of  Paradise,  and  bringing 
"  death  into  the  world  and  all  our  wo,"  it  is  not  surprising 
that  Lucy  and  Jessy  Ellet  were  now  regarded  with  sus 
picion  on  all  hands.  The  gossips,  like  the  sibyls,  after  con 
sulting  their  leaves,  arranged  and  combined  their  informa 
tion,  which  passed  through  a  hundred  channels,  and  in  a 
hundred,  different  varieties  in  the  village  of  L.  The  ru 
mours  to  which  their  communications  gave  rise  were  strange 
and  inconsistent.  The  result  was  that  the  society  of  the 
sisters  became  as  much  avoided  as  it  had  been  previously 
sought  after.  Closer  observation,  however,  caused  the 
chief  blame  to  rest  upon  Lucy,  who  was  seen  daily,  at 
sunrise  and  sunset,  wending  her  way  to  the  haunted  spot. 

It  was  some  weeks  after  Stanley's  first  sight  of  the 
phantom  lady  that  twilight  overtook  him  on  an  evening 
ramble.  He  had  carefully,  since  the  time  we  have  de 
scribed,  avoided  bending  his  steps  toward  that  vicinity  in 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  223 

any  of  his  walks.  Accordingly,  on  this  evening,  he  had 
turned  off  at  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  at  a  place  where 
another  road  met  that  leading  to  the  fearful  spot.  Having 
been  occupied  with  reflections  of  a  deeper  cast  than  are 
common  to  youths,  he  had  remained  until  the  slow  depart 
ing  sunset  reminded  him  to  retrace  his  steps.  On  ap 
proaching  the  place  where  the  two  roads  met,  he  was 
startled  by  the  sight  of  a  light  figure  emerging  into  the 
main  path.  The  thought  of  the  strange  lady  of  the  mist 
instantly  suggested  itself  to  the  mind  of  the  youth.  A 
new  moon  had  just  risen  behind  the  dim  embodiment,  and 
shed  her  soft  rays  upon  the  spot  where  it  stood.  The  last 
beams  of  the  setting  sun  were  almost  lost  beyond  the  dis 
tant  hills,  and  nothing  but  the  soft  light  of  that  evening- 
queen  lit  the  scene. 

Stanley  advanced  to  meet  the  spectral  shape — it  turned 
— a  pair  of  dark  eyes  flashed  from  beneath  a  silken  hood, 
and  the  clear  voice  of  Lucy  Ellet  sounded  in  his  ears. 

"AYell  met,  Master  Frank  Stanley,"  it  said;  "you 
have  avoided  me  of  late,  as  have  all  our  villagers." 

"  After  what  I  have  been  witness  to,  Miss  Lucy,"  began 
Stanley — 

"  Believe  me,  Frank,  the  interview  you  beheld  between 
myself  and  the  Lady  of  the  Rock  was  pure  as  the  inter 
course  above." 

"I  beseech  you,  Lucy  Ellet,"  exclaimed  the  youth, 
earnestly,  and  not  heeding  her  words,  "  for  your  own 
soul's  sake,  for  your  young  sister's  sake,  cease  these  sus 
picious  visits  to  yonder  mysterious  spot!" 

"  Oblige  me,  then,  in  relieving  me  of  my  duty  toward 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

that  unhappy  lady,  by  assuming  the  task  hitherto  per 
formed  by  myself,  and  I  will  go  thither  no  more." 

"  I  would  do  aught  but  perjure  my  own  soul,  to  have 
thee  and  thy  sister  reinstated  in  the  opinion  of  our  little 
community,  to  say  nothing  of  saving  ye  both  from  future 
destruction.  Yet,"  continued  he,  "if  I  also  must  hold 
frequent  converse  with  that  visionary  form,  I  dare  not — " 

"  Out  on  thee,  Frank,"  interrupted  the  young  lady,  "I 
had  thought  thee  a  brave  youth,  afraid  of  nothing  but  sin." 

"  And  is  it  not  sin  to  hold  constant  speech  with  a  spirit- 
messenger  of  Satan?"  inquired  the  boy. 

"  I  will  request  thee  to  have  no  speech  of  her ;  I  would 
merely  depute  you  to  bear,  morning  and  evening,  a  little 
basket,  resembling  this,  (and  she  drew  one  from  beneath 
her  shawl,)  place  it  on  the  rock — wait  until  the  unknown 
lady  appears  to  remove  it,  and  replace  it  with  another — 
then  return  to  the  village.  Do  this  to  oblige  me,  Frank, 
and  save  me  the  necessity  I  shall  otherwise  be  under  of  con 
tinuing  the  visits  so  execrated.  More  confidence  I  cannot 
put  in  you  at  present ;  but  will  you  not  have  faith  that  I 
would  not  instigate  you  to  the  performance  of  an  act  that 
was  otherwise  than  noble?" 

"Lucy  Ellet,"  said  Stanley,  looking  on  her  steadily, 
"  there  is  that  in  your  manner  and  your  words  which  shows 
me  that  you  are  actuated  by  some  generous  principle  in  this 
singular  affair.  What  this  mystery  may  be,  time  must 
prove.  I  will  do  your  errand." 

"  The  Lord  reward  you,"  replied  Miss  Ellet.  "  The  bas 
ket,  then,  shall  be  placed  under  the  large  willow-tree  at  the 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  225 

end  of  your  father's  orchard,  that  we  may  not  seem  to  have 
any  connexion  in  regard  to  it.  You  must  always  replace 
on  the  same  spot  the  one  you  will  receive  at  the  rock;  and 
I  will  cause  it  to  be  removed  and  replenished  in  time  to 
have  it  there  again,  ready  for  your  next  visit.  But  here 
we  are,  within  the  village,"  added  Lucy,  "  and  had  better 
not  be  seen  together,  lest  it  might  excite  suspicion.  You 
will  find  a  circuitous  path  to  the  rock  in  yonder  direction," 
she  continued,  pointing  to  the  left,  "  and  had  better  use  it 
in  your  excursions,  that  you  may  be  the  more  likely  to 
escape  notice."  So  saying,  and  without  giving  the  youth 
time  to  reply,  Lucy  parted  from  Stanley,  and  soon  after 
turned  into  her  uncle's  house. 

The  boy  proceeded  on  his  way  with  an  undefinable  sen 
timent  of  approval  in  his  bosom.  Some  instinct  had 
prompted  him,  notwithstanding  all  his  preconceived  no 
tions  of  horror  at  the  abandonment  of  the  young  Ellets  to 
the  power  of  the  Lady  of  the  Rock,  to  accede  to  Lucy's 
proposal  that  he  would  supply  her  place  in  her  daily  visits 
to  that  mysterious  being ;  and  so  far  from  feeling  any  re 
proaches  of  conscience  in  remembering  that  he  had  given 
her  his  promise  to  that  effect,  he  rather  enjoyed  all  the 
elation  of  spirit  experienced  by  one  who  generously  sacri 
fices  himself  to  suspicion  for  a  noble  cause.  Something  in 
Lucy  Ellet's  manner  convinced  him  that  feelings  of  the 
same  kind  had  actuated  her  conduct  in  this  strange  affair, 
and  he  thought  of  her  now  more  with  admiration  than  with 
reproach.  "Yet  what,"  said  he  to  himself,  startled  at  the 
change  a  half  an  hour  had  wrought  in  his  views.  "  if  this 


TEUTH  AND  FANCY. 

approbation  of  myself  and  Miss  Ellet  be  only  a  suggestion 
of  the  arch  tempter  to  place  me  in  his  power?"  But  no; 
the  idea  was  dismissed  in  a  moment,  as  incompatible  with 
his  feelings  of  satisfaction  in  what  he  had  pledged  himself 
to  undertake. 

Stanley  rose  at  sunrise  on  the  following  morning,  for 
the  purpose  of  commencing  the  fulfilment  of  his  promise. 
Seeking  the  willow-tree  in  the  garden,  he  found  the  little 
basket  prepared  for  him,  and  assuming  the  charge  of  it, 
set  out  upon  his  walk.  He  speedily  turned  into  the  wind 
ing  path  indicated  by  Lucy  Ellet,  and  pursued  his  way. 
The  morning  beams  were  just  breaking,  and  their  light 
glanced  upon  the  dewy  grass  beneath  his  feet,  and  caused 
it  to  sparkle  as  though  his  tread  were  upon  myriads  of 
diamonds.  The  waking  birds  were  chanting  their  matin 
lays,  and  the  insects  humming  in  every  brake  and  dingle. 
Every  thing  gave  promise  of  one  of  those  days  in  the  latter 
end  of  May  when  spring  seems"  resolved  to  triumph  over 
summer,  by  contrasting  her  superiority  in  beauty  and  fresh 
ness  with  that  sultry  season  so  soon  to  appear,  at  the  same 
time  that  she  might  almost  vie  with  the  latter  in  the  genial 
heat  of  her  noontide  sun. 

But  the  balmy  morning  and  the  day  it  presaged  were 
alike  lost  on  our  hero,  whose  mind  was  filled  with  reflections 
concerning  his  singular  mission.  He  walked  on,  wrapt  in 
thought,  till  he  approached  the  foot  of  the  hills.  He  there 
paused,  despite  his  conclusions  of  the  previous  evening, 
overpowered  with  a  doubtful  feeling  regarding  his  errand. 
He  was  about  to  minister  to  the  shadowy  spirit  whom  he 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  BOCK.  227 

had  twice  beheld  upon  that  insecure  summit.  What  fearful 
spells  might  she  not  weave  around  him  by  thus  doing  her 
will  ?  He  ascended  a  short  distance,  and  turned  to  look 
behind  him.  A  scene  of  more  complete  solitude,  having 
all  its  peculiarities  heightened  by  the  serenity  of  the  wea 
ther,  the  quiet  composure  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the  per 
fect  stillness  of  the  elements,  could  hardly  be  imagined. 
He  could  descry  nothing  of  the  scenes  he  had  left,  save 
the  valley  beneath  him,  and  the  spire  of  the  village  church 
in  the  distance.  Should  he  return  home  or  proceed  ?  He 
remembered  his  promise  to  Miss  Ellet,  and  again  applied 
himself  to  continue  his  ascent.  He  drew  near  the  ominous 
Spot — climbed  a  few  steps  higher — touched  the  rock,  and 
placed  the  basket  upon  its  base. 

Slowly  and  gradually  appeared  the  form  of  the  Lady  of 
the  Mist.  It  was  not  without  something  like  alarm  that 
Stanley  beheld  this  mysterious  being  standing  close  beside 
him.  She  had  been  about  to  speak,  but  seeing  the  boy, 
cast  her  beautiful  azure  eyes  on  him  with  a  look  of  surprise, 
exchanged  the  basket  for  another,  and,  with  a  pensive  smile, 
disappeared  from  his  view. 

Had  all  the  spells  he  had  dreaded  in  his  approach  to  the 
spot  been  concentrated  in  that  look  and  smile,  the  change 
in  the  feelings  of  young  Stanley  could  not  have  been  more 
instantaneous.  Surprise  succeeded  to  his  former  supersti 
tious  sentiments  of  awe,  for  he  had  discovered  that  the 
Lady  of  the  Mist  was  no  vague  embodiment  as  he  had 
deemed,  but  a  gentle  shape  of  human  flesh  and  blood. 
"Where  or  how  she  had  vanished,  however,  was  still  a  mys- 


JL>:  tamo. 


da  j  of  great 


i - : : 


of  exc 

tie  Tillage  of  L-.  in 
nek. 

Mr.  IQhMre,  t»  vtmm  she  fcai 

.5  xn&tiber.  the  mflBemace  of 
and  Dale  in  tike  village,  Vhere  they  t»ek 
^  AoiralMdeftr  a 


agamK 

«t  aH  taes  armed,  and 

A  :    - '  ~  ;  - 


::   ::., 
\:   ;:-^T.. :  .:. 
a  j. .-.:•-     : 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

of  the  savages,  and  give  the  word  of  warning  to  those 
engaged  within.  In  this  way,  as  the  situation  of  the  village 
was  in  itself  strong,  owing  to  the  hills  that  surrounded  it, 
the  inhabitants  trusted  that  they  were  fully  prepared  to 
resist  any  sudden  attack. 

Things  were  in  this  state  when,  on  a  certain  day,  the 
morning  beams  had  shone  on  the  unpretending  spire  of  L. 
for  five  or  six  hours,  and  the  people  had  assembled  in  the 
building  beneath  as  usual.  The  lengthy  prayer  with  which 
the  Puritans  were  wont  to  commence  their  exercises  had 
concluded,  and  just  as  every  voice  was  attuned  to  the 
melody  of  a  pious  psalm,  a  loud  and  unusual  noise  was 
heard. 

The  worshippers  of  that  humble  meeting-house  paused 
to  listen,  with  ears  erect  and  faces  filled  with  boding  expec 
tation.  It  was  the  terrific  yell  of  the  approaching  Indians. 
This  was  speedily  followed  by  the  appointed  signal  from 
the  soldiery  stationed  without,  and  at  the  instant  that  the 
report  of  the  musketry  rang  in  the  air,  the  congregation 
started  from  their  seats  in  terror.  Each  man  rushed  for 
his  arms,  and,  crowding  to  the  doors  and  windows,  found 
the  building  completely  surrounded  by  savages.  The 
females,  remaining  in  the  interior,  shrieked  in  the  extremity 
of  their  alarm. 

The  scene  that  followed  is  not  easily  described.  A  fearful 
struggle,  of  course,  ensued.  Heaven,  too,  at  that  moment 
added  its  terrors  to  the  scene.  A  furious  thunder-storm 
arose,  and  amidst  the  most  vivid  flashes  of  lightning,  and 
awful  reverberations,  the  rain  began  to  descend  in  torrents. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  231 

The  villagers  now  yielded  themselves  completely  to  terror, 
and,  abandoning  the  conflict,  prostrated  themselves  on  their 
knees,  and  resorted  to  prayer.  The  Indians  took  fresh 
courage  from  this  circumstance,  and  commenced  firing  the 
meeting-house.  For  a  little  time  the  rain  prevented  their 
efforts  from  taking  effect ;  but  at  length,  as  the  strong  army 
of  a  battle  will  rout  the  less  powerful,  so  did  the  fiercer  ele 
ment  dispel  the  weaker. 

The  fire  was  finally  triumphant,  and  spouted  in  jets  of 
flame  out  at  each  window  of  the  consuming  building,  while 
huge  flakes  of  burning  materials  went  driving  on  the  wind, 
and  rolling  a  dark  canopy  of  smoke  over  the  neighbour 
hood.  The  lurid  glow  lit  up  the  air,  and  showed  with  ter 
rible  distinctness  the  waving  crowd  that  stood  around. 
The  rain,  however,  prevented  the  progress  of  devastation 
further.  But  the  shouts  of  the  Indians  resounded  far  and 
wide,  as  they  turned  to  continue  their  work  of  destruction 
by  setting  fire  to  the  other  dwellings  in  the  village. 

At  this  crisis,  the  villagers,  as  if  animated  by  a  sudden 
and  simultaneous  impulse,  arose  from  their  knees,  and  be 
took  themselves  again  to  the  defensive.  Previously,  in  their 
resistance,  wild  confusion,  despair,  and  frenzied  efforts  had 
been  blended  in  such  a  manner  as  completely  to  destroy 
anything  like  unity  of  action.  But  now,  in  concert,  and 
disposed  according  to  the  best  military  arrangements,  they 
advanced  a  second  time  upon  these  invaders. 

The  Indians,  in  confidence  of  their  approaching  triumph, 
had  uttered  the  whoop  of  success,  which  called  their  war 
riors  from  the  adjoining  vicinity  to  behold  the  approaching 


232  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

scene.  In  surprise,  therefore,  notwithstanding  this  addi 
tion  to  their  forces,  they  found  themselves  resisted  with  a 
power  and  a  skill  such  as  they  had  never  before  witnessed. 
But  their  previous  success  had  given  new  spirit  to  an  enemy 
already  sufficiently  audacious ;  and  continuing  their  war- 
cries  with  redoubled  ferocity,  they  pursued  the  attack. 
The  combat  raged  for  about  half  an  hour,  when  the  Indians 
were  utterly  defeated,  and  betook  themselves  to  flight. 

At  that  moment  the  clouds  of  heaven  suddenly  opened, 
shedding  the  blessed  light  of  the  returning  sun  upon  the 
village  ;  and  it  might  have  been  seen  that  the  recent  victory 
had  been  obtained  through  the  means  of  a  stranger,  who 
had  appeared  and  aroused  the  people  from  their  panic  of 
fear,  assumed  the  command,  arranged  and  ordered  them  in 
the  best  military  manner,  and  thus  enabled  them  to  repel 
and  rout  the  Indians,  and  save  the  village.  This  person 
was  a  man  of  dignified  and  majestic  bearing,  and  with  an 
interesting  beauty  and  pallor  of  countenance. 

The  parting  clouds  had  scarcely  permitted  the  gleams 
of  renewed  sunshine  to  fall  upon  the  rescued  spot,  and  the 
inhabitants  began  to  realize  their  safety,  and  look  around 
to  return  thanks  to  the  skilful  and  unknown  commander 
to  whom  the  rescue  was  due,  ere  it  was  discovered  that  he 
had  mysteriously  vanished.  Awe  and  amazement  filled 
the  minds  of  the  spectators,  for  they  were  utterly  unable 
to  account  for  the  singular  arrival  and  sudden  disappear 
ance  of  this  remarkable  person.  After  many  unsatisfactory 
conjectures,  the  only  conclusion  they  could  arrive  at  was, 
that  the  Lord  had  sent  an  angel  to  their  deliverance. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  233 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  this  attack 
took  place,  that  Frank  Stanley  was  proceeding  on  his 
second  errand  to  the  rock.  As  he  walked  on,  he  pondered 
deeply  upon  the  discovery  he  had  that  morning  made.  The 
recent  scene  of  excitement  in  the  village  had  banished  the 
thoughts  of  it  throughout  the  day  from  his  mind.  But  now 
his  curiosity  recurred  to  the  subject  with  all  the  strength 
with  which  that  feeling  fixes  upon  a  mystery  but  partially 
solved.  The  stranger  who  had  so  singularly  appeared 
during  the  conflict  with  the  Indians,  and  put  them  to  flight, 
seemed  somehow  associated  in  the  boy's  mind  with  the  Lady 
of  the  Rock,  and  he  could  no  more  join  with  the  villagers 
in  believing  the  one  an  angel  of  the  Lord,  than  he  could 
now  in  supposing  the  other  an  evil  spirit. 

The  more  perplexed  the  more  he  reflected,  Stanley  one 
moment  resolved  at  all  hazards  to  penetrate  the  singular 
mystery,  to  overcome  on  his  present  errand  the  internal 
and  undefinable  feelings  which  would  restrain  him  from 
accosting  the  lady,  and  offering  her  any  further  assistance 
in  his  power,  and  discovering  the  place  of  her  retreat.  Yet 
to  press  himself  on  her  confidence  might  be  impertinence, 
and  as  she  had  in  the  morning  disappeared  without  noticing 
his  presence,  it  was  evident  that  she  did  not  mean  volun 
tarily  to  make  him  her  confidant,  and  probably  she  was 
involved  in  no  difficulties  where  he  might  be  useful.  The 
next  instant,  therefore,  he  resolved  to  suppress  all  desire 
to  penetrate  the  secret,  dismiss  his  disquieting  and  fruitless 
conjectures,  and,  without  attempting  to  invade  the  manner 
and  place  of  the  sudden  disappearance  of  the  fair  but 

20* 


234  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

living  vision,  await  the  period  when  time  should  throw  light 
upon  the  subject. 

He  was  thus  divided  in  his  own  determinations  when  he 
reached  the  woods  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  where  his  purposed 
visit  lay.  At  that  moment  he  became  startled  from  his 
reflections  by  the  rustling  of  leaves.  Remembering  the 
assault  from  the  Indians  in  the  morning,  the  youth  paused, 
and  leaned  forward  to  listen,  holding  his  breath,  and  con 
densing  every  faculty  in  the  single  sense  of  hearing. 
Silence,  however,  seemed  restored  to  the  disturbed  foliage, 
and  reigned  as  completely  as  though  it  had  previously  been 
unbroken.  The  boy  pursued  his  course,  supposing  the 
noise  he  had  heard  simply  to  have  been  occasioned  by  a 
sudden  gust  of  wind.  But  he  had  not  proceeded  many 
steps  when  the  sound  was  distinctly  perceptible  of  ap 
proaching  voices,  speaking  in  the  deep  tones  of  the  savages. 
He  turned,  and  ere  many  minutes  elapsed,  the  forms  of 
three  Indians  were  visible.  "Dog  of  the  pale  faces!"  was 
their  exclamation,  as  they  rushed  upon  him.  The  youth 
was  entirely  alone,  cheered  by  no  friendly  eye,  em 
boldened  by  no  encouraging  voice,  and  so  sudden  had 
been  the  event  that  his  mind  was  wholly  unprepared  for 
the  emergency.  Yet,  perceiving  at  once  his  danger,  and 
determined  to  make  one  bold  effort  for  his  life,  he  burst 
from  them  ere  they  w«re  aware  of  his  purpose,  and  bounded 
off  with  the  swiftness  and  alertness  of  a  deer.  There  was 
but  one  breathless  moment ;  the  Indians  raised  the  cry  of 
alarm,  and  pursued  hotly  after  him.  As  soon  as  a  favour 
able  instant  presented  itself,  he  darted  through  an  opening 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  235 

and  ascended  the  hill.  A  bullet  grazed  his  clothes,  and 
several  branches  from  the  bushes  at  his  side,  but  not  one 
harmed  him. 

Stanley  knew  too  well  the  nature  of  the  struggle  in 
which  he  was  engaged  to  lose  one  of  the  precious  moments. 
Accordingly,  he  kept  his  way  up  the  acclivity,  which, 
though  neither  very  high  nor  very  steep,  was  yet  suffi 
ciently  toilsome  to  one  contending  for  life  to  render  it 
painfully  oppressive.  There,  however,  he  was  obliged  to 
slacken  his  speed  to  recover  breath.  The  violence  with 
which  his  heart  beat  showed  how  great  had  been  his  exer 
tions.  He  must  proceed  again,  however,  for  the  footsteps 
of  his  pursuers  were  near. 

He  started  off  a  second  time,  but  his  strength  was  ex 
hausted,  and  ere  he  had  gained  the  summit  of  the  second 
hill,  he  fell  prostrate  upon  the  ground.  He  rose,  proceeded 
again  for  a  few  moments  at  his  former  swift  pace.  By 
degrees  this  slackened — the  Indians  were  within  a  few 
yards  of  him.  He  had  a  loaded  pistol  in  his  pocket — but 
he  knew  it  could  only  destroy  one  of  his  enemies,  and  there 
would  still  remain  two  to  contend  with.  Generously, 
therefore,  he  refrained  from  using  it,  and  prepared  to 
resign  himself  into  their  hands,  and  yielded  himself  up  a 
prisoner  with  a  dignity  that  was  remarkable  for  his  years. 

Dragging  him  to  a  glen  which  intervened  between  the 
two  hills,  they  bound  him  tightly,  and  then  turned  appa 
rently  to  make  some  consultations  respecting  the  manner  of 
his  fate.  The  prospect  of  death  is  terrible  at  every  period 
of  life ;  but  in  the  first  spring-tide  of  youth,  with  all  the 


236  TEUTH  AND  FANCY. 

capacities  of  pleasure  astir  and  eager  for  gratification,  to 
be  forcibly  snatched  from  the  untasted  banquet  is  pecu 
liarly  -trying,  even  when  the  change  comes  in  the  form  of 
a  natural  death-bed.  But  to  sit,  like  young  Stanley,  in 
horrid  uncertainty  in  regard  to  the  mode  in  which  life  was 
to  be  extinguished,  was  a  situation  to  break  the  boldest 
spirit ;  and  the  unhappy  captive  could  not  restrain  the 
tears  which  flowed  from  his  eyes.  We  have  seen  that  al 
though  he  was  a  brave  youth  in  any  danger  which  could 
be  met  by  action,  yet  withal,  he  was  strongly  imaginative 
and  apt  to  be  led  away  by  the  exaggerations  of  fancy — 
exaggerations  likely  to  act  more  or  less  upon  the  soul  of 
any  one  who  is  in  suspense  and  passively  awaiting  an  ap 
proaching  calamity.  This  agony  of  mind  continued  until 
the  feelings  of  the  youth  arose  almost  to  a  state  of  frenzy. 
He  started  up,  and  struggled  so  violently  to  become  freed 
from  his  bonds,  that  it  almost  seemed  that  they  should 
have  burst  by  the  force  of  his  strength,  as  did  the  withes 
of  Samson.  But  the  cords  were  of  too  firm  a  texture, 
and,  after  an  unavailing  struggle,  the  boy  fell  back  ex 
hausted. 

The  Indians  were  evidently  now  preparing  some  torture, 
which  would  put  the  sufferer  to  severe  bodily  anguish.  As 
Stanley  lay  and  looked  on,  overcome  with  his  late  violent 
exertions,  the  scene  swam  before  him.  At  this  instant  he 
became  aware  of  an  interruption  to  the  preparations  of  the 
savages,  and  had  just  time  to  recognise  the  mysterious 
stranger  of  the  morning,  to  whom  the  preservation  of  his 
native  village  was  due,  and  behold  him  fall  upon  the  enemy, 
when  he  became  insensible. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  237 


CHAPTER   XII. 

"  Can  no  rost  find  me,  no  private  place  secure  me 
But  still  my  miseries  like  bloodhounds  haunt  me? 
Unfortunate  young  man,  which  way  now  guides  thee, 
Guide  thee  from  death  ?  the  country's  laid  around  for  thee." 

WOMEN  PLEASED. 

"  Did  I  but  purpose  to  embark  with  thee 
On  a  smooth  surface  of  a  summer  sea, 
And  would  forsake  the  skiff  and  make  the  shore 
When  the  winds  whistle,  and  the  tempests  roar?" 

PRIOR. 

"A  hopeless  darkness  settles  o'er  my  fate — 
I've  seen  the  last  look  of  her  heavenly  eyes; 
I've  heard  the  last  sound  of  her  blessed  voice — 
I've  seen  the  fair  form  my  sight  depart — 
My  doom  is  closed." 

COUNT  BASIL. 

WHEN  young  Stanley  first  returned  to  consciousness,  he 
found  himself  in  a  place  whose  shaded  artificial  light 
seemed  very  grateful  to  his  eyes,  aching  as  they  were  in 
sympathy  with  his  throbbing  brain :  without  arousing  him 
self  sufficiently  to  consider  the  nature  of  his  situation, 
further  than  to  know  that  his  limbs  were  free,  and  that  he 
was  lying  upon  a  comfortable  bed,  he  fell  into  a  heavy  and 
unnatural  slumber.  During  this  lethargy,  which  lasted 
many  hours,  sudden  starts,  the  perspiration  which  stood 
upon  his  brow,  the  distortions  of  his  countenance,  and  the 
manner  in  which  he  flung  about  his  limbs,  showed  that  in 
his  dreams,  he  was  again  encountering  the  terrors  from 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

which  he  had  escaped.  This  lasted  for  several  hours,  but 
at  length  fatigue  prevailed  over  nervous  excitation,  and  he 
relapsed  into  a  soft,  untroubled  repose. 

After  some  time,  he  sighed,  stirred  and  awoke.  On 
looking  round,  he  found  himself  in  a  place  surrounded  by 
walls  of  stone,  with  an  opening  on  one  side,  blockaded  by 
a  piece  of  rock,  and  leaving  a  single  crevice  through  which 
a  faint  ray  of  daylight  fell.  The  floor  and  ceiling  of  earth 
showed  that  it  was  under  ground;  yet  it  contained  various 
articles  of  rude  furniture,  and  the  moss  bed  on  which  he 
lay  was  soft  and  pliable  under  his  weight.  The  brands  of 
a  falling  fire  had  been  carefully  raked  together  in  one 
corner,  and  were  buraing  with  a  feeble  and  wavering 
flame,  which  cast  faint,  flickering  shadows  upon  the  dark 
walls. 

Continuing  his  inspection  more  closely,  the  boy  saw  the 
figure  of  an  aged  man,  seated  upon  a  stone,  bending  over 
the  pages  of  a  large  Bible  which  lay  open  upon  his  knee. 
His  countenance  was  majestic  and  dignified.  His  brow 
had  a  care-worn  and  anxious  expression,  yet  withal  an  air 
of  calm  resignation  inexpressibly  sublime.  His  locks  were 
almost  completely  white,  though  his  dark  and  intelligent 
eye  still  retained  much  of  the  fire  of  early  youth,  while  the 
hale  cheek  and  undaunted  presence  indicated  patience  and 
content  in  the  greatest  suffering  that  can  befall  humanity. 

Stanley  neither  spoke  nor  moved ;  but  remained  with  his 
eyes  riveted  on  the  attractive  countenance  before  him  with 
a  species  of  holy  awe.  As  he  gazed,  the  old  man  arose, 
kneeled,  and  poured  out  the  aspirations  of  a  pure  spirit  in 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  239 

fervent  petitions  to  that  Power  whose  support  he  evidently 
needed. 

While  he  was  yet  praying,  a  manly  form  entered  at  the 
opening  of  the  cavern.  The  stranger  wore  a  military 
cloak.  He  stood  in  the  shadow  until  the  aged  man  had 
ceased  and  risen,  then  dropped  his  cloak  and  approached 
the  latter,  and  Stanley  knew  him  for  the  mysterious  de 
liverer  of  the  village,  and  the  person  whom  he  had  seen 
when  he  lay  bound  by  the  Indians,  to  fall  upon  them,  and 
effect,  he  felt  certain,  the  preservation  he  had  experienced. 
He  was  a  specimen  of  manly  beauty;  and  the  proud  and 
lofty  forehead,  the  deep-set  brow  and  eyes,  the  expressive 
lip,  addressed  themselves  to  the  interest  of  the  youth. 

Overcome  with  surprise,  the  boy  still  remained  immo 
vable,  and  the  old  man  addressed  the  stranger.  "Has 
she  not  yet  arrived?  the  sun  is  high — it  must  be  noon- 
day." 

"It  is  reason  enough  for  her  detention,"  replied  the 
other,  in  a  half-impatient  voice,  the  tones  of  which  were 
deep  and  clear,  "that  I  have  gone  forth  to  meet  her.  All 
objects  that  I  seek  elude  my  pursuit :  there  is  a  curse  upon 
my  every  pathway." 

"  Give  not  way  to  repinings,  my  son ;  turn  thine  eyes 
upon  the  blessings  that  remain  to  thee,  which  far  exceeds 
the  deserts  of  the  best  of  men." 

"Talk  not  to  me  of  blessings,  my  father,"  replied  the 
other.  "  If  there  crawls  upon  the  earth  a  living  being 
deserving  of  pity,  I  am  that  man.  My  food  no  longer 
nourishes  me,  my  sleep  fails  to  refresh  me,  my  devotions  do 


240  TKUTH  AND  FANCY. 

not  comfort  me — all  that  is  necessary  and  cheering  to  me 
has  turned  to  poison.  Vegetating  on  the  same  spot,  fancy, 
feeling,  judgment,  and  health  gradually  decaying,  like  a 
tree  whose  bark  has  been  destroyed — I  have  been  a  man 
more  sinned  against  than  sinning. 

"He  who  is  immured  in  a  living  grave  like  this,"  he 
continued,  after  an  instant's  pause,  "may  well  wish  for 
one  yet  more  calm  and  sequestered.  Let  us  go  forth,  and 
challenge  the  death  that  awaits  us.  Hunted  by  blood 
hounds,  our  fate  is  doomed.  Bather,  then,  let  it  come  at 
once  than  hold  us  longer  in  this  state  of  misery." 

"William,"  said  the  old  man,  "wouldst  thou  rashly 
cast  away  the  boon  of  life  that  God  has  given  thee  ?  Canst 
thou  be  fated  to  death  simply  because  the  word  of  a  vindic 
tive  king  has  gone  forth  against  thee  ?  Nay,  my  son,  let 
us  abide  the  Lord's  time,  and  endure  here  unto  the  end, 
that  we  may  obtain  a  crown  of  rejoicing  hereafter.  And," 
he  added,  while  a  tear  dimmed  his  eye,  "  would  you  leave 
Alice  and  your  child  ? 

"William,"  pursued  the  aged  man,  "you  forbade  me 
but  now  to  tell  you  of  blessings.  But,  surely,  thou  art 
strangely  unthankful  for  thine — even  for  the  incalculable 
blessing  that  thou  hast  in  that  noble-minded  woman.  Hath 
she  not  accompanied  us  hither,  and  cheered  and  sustained 
us  with  her  angel  presence  ?" 

"My  father,  drive  me  not  to  frenzy,"  exclaimed  the 
other.  "  You  have  struck  the  chord  which  another  touch 
would  break.  It  is  the  sight  of  her,  dearer  to  me  than  life 
itself — immured  in  this  ghostly  hiding-place,  and  day  by 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  HOCK.  241 

day,  growing  thin  and  waxing  pale,  and  smiling  in  the 
midst  of  misery,  that  is  more  than  I  can  bear.  And  it  is 
I  who  have  brought  this  evil  upon  her.  But  for  me,  she 
might  now  have  been  blooming  in  increasing  beauty  in 
some  brilliant  destiny  beyond  the  seas.  Never  were  the 
bright  prospects  of  opening  life  more  cruelly  dashed.  And 
can  she,  frail  as  she  is,  much  longer  sustain  the  effort  by 
which  she  has  met  this  stroke  of  fortune  ?  Will  not  the 
reaction,  when  it  comes,  be  too  terrible  to  be  borne?  Oh, 
God,  the  thought  of  her  is  agony!"  and  he  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands. 

A  female  form  entered.  She  advanced  into  the  cave, 
and,  throwing  off  a  cloak  and  hood,  Stanley  recognised  the 
mysterious  Lady  of  the  Rock.  For  a  second  she  regarded 
the  younger  of  the  two  without  speaking.  "My  dearest 
William,"  said  she,  at  length,  as  drawing  close  to  him,  she 
laid  her  hand  in  a  sympathetic  manner  on  his  arm,  "  why 
do  you  yield  thus  to  grief?" 

As  if  her  touch  and  voice  were  magic,  the  unhappy  exile 
raised  his  head  to  meet  her  glance.  "I  grieve  for  you,  my 
Alice,"  he  replied,  after  gazing  on  her  anxiously  for  some 
moments,  and  throwing  his  arm  around  her  passionately, 
"  to  see  you  bereft  of  all  the  appliances  of  comfort,  and  to 
behold  your  noble  spirit  display  its  courage  in  mild  sub 
mission  and  generous  efforts  to  support  the  hearts  of 
others.  How  cruel  doth  the  decree  of  Fate  seem  that  you, 
so  pure,  so  gentle,  so  lovely,  should  be  visited  thus  heavily." 
Unable  to  endure  his  own  thoughts,  he  broke  abruptly 
away  from  her,  and  paced  heavily  up  and  doAvn  the  cave. 

21 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

"My  dear  husband,"  she  said,  approaching  him,  and 
looking  in  his  face ;  "  do  not  think  of  my  lot.  Believe 
me,  it  would  have  been  but  too  happy  if  it  could  have  alle 
viated  the  bitterness  of  yours,  or  soothed  one  sorrow  of 
my  father's  heart.  Come  hither,  my  parent,  I  have  news 
of  encouragement  for  you  both.  There  is  reason  to  trust 
that  our  troubles  will  be  but  short-lived.  Our  friends  have 
great  confidence  in  the  eifect  of  a  personal  appeal  from  me 
to  Charles  II.  Nay,  look  not  thus  distressed,  my  father ; 
it  is  for  your  sakes  that  I  leave  those  who  are  dearer  to 
me  than  life  itself.  I  will  present  myself  at  the  throne  of 
the  king,  and  petition  him  for  your  pardon :  and  Heaven 
grant  that  if  we  meet  again  on  earth,  it  may  be  in  circum 
stances  of  peace  and  safety." 

"Alice,  thou  shalt  not  leave  us!"  exclaimed  Heath. 
"  Death  were  far  preferable  to  life  in  this  gloomy  cavern 
uncheered  by  your  presence.  I  will  go  forth  and  yield 
myself  up  to  my  pursuers,  if  thou  talkest  again  of  thine 
absence." 

"  Nay,  William,  I  shall  not  leave  you  in  this  place. 
The  marriage  of  Lucy  Ellet  will  occur  to-night,  and  Mr. 
Elmore  has  kindly  offered  you  both  an  asylum  in  his  house 
until  my  return,  or  for  the  remainder  of  your  lives,  should 
it  be  necessary.  The  remote  and  secluded  nature  of  the 
spot  will  withdraw  you  from  the  intrusions  of  impertinent 
curiosity." 

At  that  instant  the  voices  of  men  were  heard  without 
the  cavern,  and  a  fearful  suspicion  dawned  suddenly  on 
the  minds  of  all  present. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  EOCK.  243 

"  Oh,  God !"  exclaimed  young  Stanley,  starting  from 
his  couch,  "your  pursuers  are  seeking  you:  keep  a  pro 
found  silence,  or  your  voices  will  betray  you." 

"Let  them  find  us,"  said  Heath  aloud.  "I  am  weary 
of  eluding  them,  and  am  glad  my  hour  is  arrived." 

"William,  dear  William,  be  silent,"  whispered  the  lady, 
bending  toward  him  with  a  look  of  unspeakable  terror, 
as  a  deep  flush  mantled  the  cheek  that  a  moment  back 
was  so  pale. 

"Alice,  I  tell  you  it  is  useless — " 

"Hush,  love,  for  my  sake,  for  your  child's  sake,"  urged 
the  lady  in  his  ear,  as  her  countenance  became  agonized. 

The  voices  without  now  grew  so  audible  that  words 
could  be  distinguished.  The  old  man  clasped  his  hands 
in  resignation,  and  his  half-parted  lips  murmured,  "  The 
Lord's  will  be  done !"  Alice  threw  one  arm  around  the 
neck  of  her  husband,  with  a  gesture  of  unutterable  love,  as 
though  she  would  shield  him,  and  placed  the  other  hand 
on  his  mouth,  while  she  trembled  in  every  limb. 

"  The  entrance  of  their  asylum  is  well  hidden,"  said  one 
of  the  voices.  "  It  will  be  a  day's  work  to  discover  it." 

"Let  us  spend  the  day  at  it  then,"  replied  the  other 
speaker,  in  a  gruffer  and  harsher  tone.  "  We  will  not 
give  up  the  search  until  we  find  it." 

And  they  seemed  approaching  the  mouth  of  the  cavern. 
A  moment  of  intense  and  breathless  anxiety  to  the  inmates 
elapsed.  They  stood  still  and  silent  as  the  rocks  around 
them,  suspending  every,  even  the  slightest  external  motion, 
and  would  have  ceased  to  breathe,  had  nature  permitted 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

such  an  intermission  of  her  functions.  More  torturing 
their  suspense  than  the  long,  lingering  seconds  in  which  a 
duellist  beholds  his  adversary's  pistol  wavering  over  his 
heart  or  brain.  Their  discovery  seemed  inevitable.  In  a 
few  minutes,  however,  those  outside  passed  on,  and  after  a 
short  time  their  voices  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  until  they 
were  lost  in  the  distance. 

"  Seize  the  opportunity  of  escape  ere  their  return,"  said 
Alice,  breaking  the  death-like  stillness  that  had  been  pre 
served.  "  Quick,  father !  William !  the  moments  fly.  Make 
your  way  toward  the  house  of  Mr.  Elmore.  I  will  linger 
here  to  baffle  the  inquiries  of  your  pursuers." 

"  Come,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man,  rising  with  a  sudden 
energy.  "  The  Lord  has  opened  another  door  of  salvation 
for  us.  Dost  thou  hear  ?" 

"Nay,  I  will  not  again  fly  for  my  wretched  life,"  said 
Heath.  "  I  will  passively  await  my  fate." 

"William!  William  !"  exclaimed  his  wife,  in  an  agony  of 
heartfelt  urgency  and  sweetness,  "  I  pray  you,  by  what 
ever  is  dear  in  our  past  association  together — by  all  the 
claims,  I  will  not  say  of  the  continued  love  you  but  this 
day  professed  for  me,  but  by  those  of  an  affection  on  my 
part  which  would  endure  all  things  for  your  sake — to  use 
the  proper  means  for  your  preservation.  Depart  without 
delay;"  and  an  expression  of  unanswerable  entreaty 
beamed  in  the  eye  of  the  suppliant. 

"  I  will  do  aught  that  you  ask,  beloved  one,  even  to  the 
prolonging  of  my  life  of  wretchedness,"  rejoined  her  hus 
band,  as  he  imprinted  a  kiss  on  her  brow,  and  drew  her 
with  him  toward  the  door  of  the  cave. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  245 

"Let  me  be  your  guide,"  said  Stanley,  advancing  and 
addressing  Heath.  "It  will  be  some  small  return  for  the 
service  you  have  rendered  me." 

"I  had  almost  forgotten,  in  my  affliction,  to  see  to  you, 
kind  youth.  But  you  have  slept  long,  and  appear  to  be 
recovered." 

"Thanks  to  you,  sir,  I  am  living  and  well,"  answered 
the  boy.  "  But  time  grows  apace.  Will  you  accept  my 
services?" 

"  Nay,  I  am  acquainted  with  the  whole  neighbourhood. 
You  will  do  me  a  greater  favour  to  remain  with  this  de 
serted  lady,  and  see  her  safe  in  the  hands  of  friends." 

With  a  countenance  of  perfect  calmness,  the  heroic  wife 
and  daughter  endeavoured  to  hasten  the  moment  of  sepa 
ration. 

"Farewell!"  she  said,  casting  her  arms  around  the  old 
man,  while  a  smile  was  on  her  lips.  "  Farewell !  we  may 
be  parted  for  years,  perhaps  for  ever," — and  she  made  a 
violent  effort  to  repress  her  distress.  "Bless  me  and  for 
give  me,  my  parent,  ere  you  depart." 

"  Thou  hast,  thou  hast  my  blessing,  my  suffering  dove ; 
and  for  my  pardon,  how  canst  thou  ask  it,  who  hast  never 
done  me  an  offence  since  God  made  me  parent  to  so  noble 
a  child  ?  May  the  Lord  be  to  thee  a  rock  of  shelter  and  a 
path  of  deliverance  from  affliction." 

The  old  man  here  turned  away,  and  began  to  descend 
the  hill. 

"You  must  not  linger  longer,  William,"  said  the  lady, 
turning  to  her  husband,  who  stood  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon 

21* 


246  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

her  face.  "  Farewell !  our  fortunes  look  dark,  it  is  true, 
but  mayhap  the  same  bright  morning  will  yet  dawn  for  us. 
And  if  not,  we  are  not  still  denied  the  glorious  hope  that 
in  the  darkest  moments  of  separation  clings  to  humanity — 
the  anticipation  of  reunion  in  the  future." 

"Farewell!"  said  Heath,  folding  her  in  a  long  embrace 
to  his  heart,  while  his  cheek  trembled,  and  a  tear  dimmed 
his  manly  eye.  "  My  beloved  wife,  farewell ! — my  Alice, 
my  own  one,  adieu!"  And  drawing  his  cap  over  his  brow, 
and  tightening  the  folds  of  the  cloak  he  had  resumed,  he 
broke  away,  and  followed  his  aged  companion. 

The  lady  watched  the  fugitives  until  they  were  out  of 
sight,  and  Stanley  remained  by  her  side  silent,  judging  it 
best  not  to  disturb  her  feelings  at  the  moment  with  any 
ill-timed  remark. 

While  they  stood,  he  had  time  to  examine  the  entrance 
to  the  cavern,  which  had  eluded  his  discovery  so  com 
pletely  on  his  former  visits  to  the  rock.  Nothing  could 
be  more  concealed  than  its  entrance.  The  opening,  ex 
tremely  small,  lay  in  the  face  of  the  cliffs,  directly  behind 
a  large  gray  rock,  or  rather  upright  stone,  which  served 
at  once  to  conceal  it  from  strangers,  and  as  a  mark  to 
point  out  its  situation  to  those  who  employed  it  as  a  place 
of  retreat.  The  space  between  the  stone  and  cliffs  was 
very  narrow,  and  might  easily  escape  not  only  ordinary 
observation,  but  the  minute  search  of  a  mind  not  perse- 
veringly  active.  The  boy  did  not  marvel,  when  he  per 
ceived  its  secret  position,  that  it  had  previously  been 
unnoticed  by  him  :  for  it  might  have  eluded  the  attention 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  247 

of  those  who  had  stood  at  its  very  opening.  As  he  was 
still  engaged  in  admiring  its  security,  the  lady  turned  and 
said  to  him,  "  Let  us  return  within  till  I  make  the  neces 
sary  preparation  for  my  departure." 

"  I  leave  this  spot,"  said  she,  as  they  entered,  "endeared 
by  many  sad  associations,  never  to  return  to  it  again." 

"You  are  likely  to  leave  it  in  a  way  you  do  not 
imagine,"  said  a  man,  springing  in  at  the  opening.  He 
was  speedily  followed  by  another,  and  they  both  stood 
within  the  cave. 

"How  is  this?"  said  the  latter,  looking  surprised  and 
disappointed — "a  woman  and  a  boy." 

Alice  turned,  at  first  much  startled ;  but  when  a  moment 
was  past,  she  prepared  herself  to  receive  the  intruders 
with  the  perfect  confidence  which  a  woman  never  fails  to 
feel  in  the  mildness  and  reason  of  a  man,  however  rude. 
Moreover,  having  nothing  to  fear  for  her  husband  and 
father,  she  found  little  difficulty  in  retaining  her  self- 
possession,  supported  by  her  inherent  dignity. 

One  of  them,  who  was  distinguished  from  his  companion 
by  much  superiority  of  mien,  lifting  his  hat  respectfully, 
addressed  her :  "  It  is  unpleasant  to  question  a  woman, 
especially  one  of  your  appearance  ;  but,  madam,  where  are 
your  companions?" 

"I  am  unable  to  inform  you,"  said  Alice  modestly; 
"yet  I  must  say  that  in  my  present  situation  I  could  have 
wished  to  be  spared  the  pain  of  confessing  my  ignorance." 

The  harsh  features  of  the  elder  contracted  into  their 
sternest  look,  and  it  was  evident  how  much  he  was  dis- 


248  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

turbed  by  the  cool  manner  of  her  reply.  Alice  gazed  at 
his  lowering  features  for  a  moment  in  perfect  composure, 
as  if  she  had  nought  to  fear  from  his  intentions. 

"Perhaps  you  can  give  us  the  information  we  desire?" 
said  he,  turning  to  Stanley. 

"  Like  this  lady,  I  must  confess  my  ignorance  of  their 
whereabouts,  if  you  allude  to  Messrs.  Lisle  and  Heath." 

"  Pardon  us,  fair  lady  of  this  grotto,"  replied  the 
younger  cavalier,  "but  we  will  be  obliged  to  search  its 
inmost  recesses." 

"  True,  perhaps  they  are  here,  and  this  coolness  may  be 
assumed,"  said  the  other:  "let  us  proceed  to  make  a 
thorough  investigation." 

"I  will  vacate  the  premises  for  you,  gentlemen,"  said 
Alice,  drawing  her  arm  through  Stanley's,  and  leaving  the 
cave.  After  which,  at  a  slow  pace,  they  proceeded  together 
toward  the  village. 

,  •   ,     .,•-.-..    ..  ( 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  HOCK.  249 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"Bring  flowers,  fresh  flowers,  for  the  bride  to  wear! 
They  were  born  to  blush  in  her  shining  hair: 
She  is  leaving  the  home  of  her  childhood's  mirth, 
She  hath  bid  farewell  to  her  father's  hearth ; 
Her  place  is  now  by  another's  side; 
Bring  flowers  for  the  locks  of  the  fair  young  bride!" 

MBS.  IIEMANS. 

A  CALM  and  cloudless  evening  followed  the  exciting 
morning  which  had  been  experienced  in  L.  The  fairest 
moon  of  May  shone  above  the  ruined  meeting-house,  which 
lay  in  blackened  rubbish  upon  the  ground.  Her  soft  light 
lit  up  the  white  dwellings  and  shrubbery  of  the  village 
with  a  holy  beauty,  until  they  stood  out  in  bold  relief 
against  the  surrounding  hills,  which,  in  like  manner,  stood 
out  in  similar  relief  against  a  sky  sparkling  with  myriads 
of  stars.  The  herbage  sent  up  its  sweetest  fragrance,  and 
the  air  was  balmy  and  delicious.  In  short,  the  earth  and 
sky  seemed  wedded  in  harmony,  and  formed  a  fitting  em 
blem  of  the  marriage  tie  about  to  be  celebrated. 

The  laws  regulating  wedlock  in  the  colonies  were  suited 
to  the  infant  state  of  society,  and  threw  but  few  obstacles 
in  the  way  of  the  connexion.  Agreeably  with  this  banish 
ment  of  all  unnecessary  form,  it  was  not  usual  to  celebrate 
their  nuptials  in  places  of  public  worship. 

This  was  peculiarly  fortunate  in  the  case  of  Lucy  Ellet, 


250  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

whose  marriage  having  been  fixed  for  this  evening,  would 
have  had  to  be  deferred,  had  it  been  the  expectation  to 
celebrate  it  in  the  village  meeting-house.  The  arrange 
ments,  however,  had  been  made  for  the  performance  of  the 
ceremony  in  the  house  of  her  uncle,  and  the  unpleasant 
affair  of  the  morning  was  not  permitted  to  retard  a  matter 
of  such  vitality.  Lucy's  nerves,  too,  being  of  that  firm 
kind  which  no  shock  could  shatter  or  disturb  beyond  the 
passing  moment,  there  was  no  necessity  for  deferring  the 
period. 

The  hospitalities  of  her  uncle's  house  were  thrown  open 
to  the  villagers — not,  it  is  true,  by  great  displays,  such  as 
grace  nuptial  feasts  at  the  present  day,  but  by  means  of 
that  unpretending  welcome  and  abundance  of  cheer,  which 
appeals  at  once  to  the  heart  and  appetite  of  the  guest.  The 
best  parlour  was  graced  with  vases  of  the  freshest  spring 
flowers,  and  tasteful  green  branches  interwoven  with  white 
roses — the  whole  answering  to  the  idea  of  a  fitting  place 
for  a  marriage  scene. 

The  gate  leading  to  Governor  H.'s  house  was  besieged 
by  vehicles  of  almost  every  shape  and  description.  The 
company  had  assembled  about  eight  o'clock,  and  were 
awaiting  the  entrance  of  the  bridal  train,  when  their  atten 
tion  was  diverted  by  the  appearance  of  Jessy  Ellet,  the 
young  sister  of  the  bride,  holding  by  the  hand  of  a  lady, 
who,  from  the  fact  that  she  was  a  stranger,  as  well  as  from 
something  striking  in  her  aspect,  elicited  an  unusual  degree 
of  notice.  Care,  more  than  time,  had  made  inroads  upon 
a  face  still  exquisitely  lovely ;  and  the  extreme  simplicity 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  251 

of  her  attire  served  to  adorn  the  melancholy  and  touching 
beauty  of  her  countenance.  There  was  something  elevated 
in  the  sadness  of  her  expression,  as  though  her  hopes  lay 
scarce  any  longer  upon  earth,  but  were  removed  into  a 
scene  where  disappointment  and  sorrow  could  never  come. 
But  withal  there  was  occasionally  a  lustre  in  her  eye,  and 
a  beaming  smile  upon  her  lip,  that  proved  her  capable  of 
the  deepest  and  strongest  earthly  attachments. 

This  was  evinced  in  her  manner  toward  the  child,  upon 
whom  she  frequently  bestowed  these  momentary  marks  of 
affection.  Retiring  to  a  distant  part  of  the  room,  it  was 
evident  that  she  sought  to  escape  observation.  Curiosity, 
however,  had  been  excited,  and  every  eye  remained  fixed 
upon  her.  As  she  seated  herself,  and  the  little  Jessy  clung 
to  her,  and  looked  up  into  her  face,  to  make  some  childish 
sally,  a  strange  resemblance  became  perceptible  between 
the  two.  Upon  the  brow  of  each  there  was  the  same  mild 
and  placid  expression ;  the  same  azure  eyes,  and  the  iden 
tical  peculiar  smile,  changing  the  expression  of  the  whole 
countenance. 

The  bustle  attending  the  arrival  of  the  guests  had  sub 
sided,  and  the  minister,  with  his  features  settled  into  a 
suitable  degree  of  solemnity,  stood  waiting  with  becoming 
dignity  the  entrance  of  those  upon  whom  he  was  to  pro 
nounce  the  nuptial  benediction.  The  door  opened,  and  a 
group  moved  slowly  forward.  Lucy  was  in  front,  leaning 
on  the  arm  which  Henry  Elmore  had  given  her  as  much 
for  her  support  as  from  motives  of  courtesy.  She  appeared 
attired  in  a  manner  suitable  to  the  simplicity  as  well  as  the 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

importance  of  the  ceremony.  A  dress  of  simple  white  con 
cealed  by  its  folds  the  graceful  proportions  of  her  slender 
form.  Under  it  was  a  vest  cut  in  the  fashion  of  that  period, 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  give  the  exact  outline  of  her  shape. 
A  few  orange  blossoms  were  carelessly  entwined  in  the 
raven  braids  of  her  hair,  showing  more  spotlessly  by  the 
contrast. 

As  they  drew  near  to  the  expecting  clergyman,  Lucy's 
step,  which  had  been  slightly  unsteady,  grew  firmer. 
Although  she  exhibited  the  least  composure  of  the  two, 
yet  she  showed  the  most  intentness  on  the  solemnity  before 
them,  and  raising  her  eyes  toward  the  clergyman,  she  kept 
them  fixed  on  him  throughout  the  ceremony  with  sweet  and 
earnest  attention. 

In  a  moment,  the  low  solemn  tones  of  the  minister  were 
heard.  As  he  delivered  the  usual  opening  homily,  he 
paused  frequently  and  long,  giving  to  each  injunction  a 
distinct  and  marked  emphasis.  After  performing  the  cere 
mony,  when  he  came  to  the  closing  words,  "  what  God  hath 
joined  together,  let  not  man  put  asunder,"  he  lifted  his  voice 
as  though  he  were  addressing  the  guests ;  and  when  the 
blessing  was  pronounced,  for  a  few  moments  not  a  sound 
was  heard  in  the  room.  The  minister  advanced  first,  and 
congratulated  the  pair,  followed  by  the  guests,  who  also 
approached  and  made  their  compliments. 

The  enjoyments  of  the  Puritans  were  of  a  very  quiet 
nature.  They  neither  jested,  heard  music,  nor  drank 
healths,  and  yet  they  seemed  not  the  less  to  enjoy  them 
selves.  Political  leanings  had  not  then  contributed  their 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  253 

bitterness  to  private  life ;  but  religion  being  the  chief  topic 
of  their  thoughts,  became  also  the  principal  subject  of  their 
conversation. 

Throughout  the  evening,  therefore,  metaphysical  and  doc 
trinal  subjects  were  discussed,  creeds  and  sects  compared, 
and  their  own  views  fortified  by  Bible  authority  among  the 
elder  gentlemen ;  the  merits  of  different  preachers  balanced 
by  the  more  advanced  ladies ;  while  the  young  people  of 
both  sexes,  without  entering  into  the  discussion  of  subjects 
of  that  nature,  yet  tempered  their  remarks  on  more  ordi 
nary  matters  by  many  a  scriptural  phrase  and  pious  ex 
pression. 

A  tone  of  cheerfulness,  however,  prevailed  over  all,  except 
when  an  eye  occasionally  rested  on  the  stranger  lady,  of 
whose  melancholy  look  the  faintest  token  of  liveliness 
seemed  a  mockery.  This  lady  was  not  introduced  to  any 
of  the  company,  but  remained  throughout  the  evening  in 
the  recess  she  had  first  chosen.  She  kept  the  hand  of  the 
fair  child,  who  seemed  fascinated  by  her  presence,  and  con 
tinued  riveted  to  her  side.  Every  kindness  and  attention 
was  paid  her  by  her  hosts.  Frequently  Governor  H.  and 
his  wife  approached  her  and  conversed  ;  and  the  bride  at 
one  time  during  the  evening  remained  seated  with  her  more 
than  an  hour.  Several  persons  made  attempts  to  satisfy 
the  curiosity  her  presence  and  appearance  excited,  by  ques 
tioning  those  whom  they  had  seen  speaking  with  her.  But 
their  queries  were  evaded,  and  they  obtained  little  or  no 
satisfaction.  For  several  days  succeeding  she  continued  to 
form  a  subject  of  much  gossip  and  surmise.  Not  afterward, 

22 


254  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

however,  being  seen  in  L.,  her  existence  was  soon  for 
gotten. 

A  table,  groaning  with  every  variety  of  excellent  cheer, 
and  in  the  greatest  abundance,  was  provided  for  the  com 
pany.  Fish,  flesh,  and  fowl,  cake  of  all  kinds,  and  sweet 
meats  in  profusion,  graced  the  board.  Nothing  was  wanting 
that  trouble  and  good  housewifery  could  supply.  This 
repast  was  partaken  of  at  an  early  hour,  and  the  company 
returned  to  their  homes. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE*ROCK.  255 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

"I,  that  please  some,  try  all;  both  joy^nd  terror 
Of  good  and  bad;— that  make  and  unfold  error — 
Now  take  upon  me  in  the  name  of  Time 
To  use  my  wings.    Impute  it  not  a  crime 
To  me  or  my  swift  passage  that  I  slide 
O'er  sixteen  years,  and  leave  the  ground  untried 
Of  that  wide  gap." 

WINTEB'S  TALE. 

THE  course  of  our  narrative  obliges  us  to  pass  over  six 
teen  years  ere  we  again  introduce  its  characters  to  our 
readers.  To  those  of  them  who  may  happen  to  have  lived 
nearly  twice  that  period,  the  interval  will  not  appear  long. 

Lucy  Ellet  had  removed  on  the  day  following  her  mar 
riage  to  the  house  of  Henry  Elmore,  situated  about  five 
miles  distant  from  New  Haven.  It  was  a  cheerful  country 
residence,  fitted  up  with  much  neatness.  Around  it  lay  a 
perfect  wilderness  of  flower-gardens,  amid  which  a  refined 
taste  had  caused  to  be  erected  little  summer-houses,  which 
afforded  points  of  view  over  the  distant  bay  of  New  Haven. 
Attached  to  these  grounds  was  a  large  farm,  over  which 
Lucy  soon  learned  to  preside  with  much  matronly  grace 
and  dignity.  The  house  itself  had  been  originally  small ; 
but  shortly  after  the  marriage  of  the  owner,  it  had  been 
enlarged  by  the  addition  of  a  wing  at  the  back  part.  This 
was  not  exactly  adjoining  the  main  building,  but  connected 


256  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

with  it  by  a  corridor.  With  regard  to  the  purpose  for 
which  it  had  been  added,  nothing  was  known  in  the  neigh 
bourhood  with  any  certainty.  Many  stories  had  been  cir 
culated  concerning  its  object,  and  a  belief  had  at  length 
become  current  that  it  was  haunted  by  spirits.  There  were 
those,  indeed,  who  stated  that  they  had  beheld  through  the 
'  opening  of  a  curtain  at  the  window,  a  strangely  emaciated 
face,  with  sunken  e5%s  of  an  unnatural  lustre,  and  a  look 
that  was  not  of  earth. 

The  mystery  that  was  attached  to  this  portion  of  the 
building,  and  the  tales  that  were  circulated  in  relation  to 
it — together  with  the  former  reports  that  had  attached  to 
Lucy  Ellet  and  her  young  sister — rendered  its  inmates 
avoided  and  unpopular  throughout  the  neighbourhood.  No 
distress  or  mortification,  however,  seemed  to  be  felt  at  this 
circumstance  by  Henry  Elmore  and  his  wife,  who  showed 
no  disposition  for  the  society  of  their  neighbours,  and  who 
no  more  exchanged  visits  with  any  other  persons  than 
Governor  H.  and  his  wife  (who  still  resided  in  L.),  visits 
which  were  mutually  given  and  rendered  as  often  as  the 
distance  that  intervened  between  their  homes  allowed. 

Jessy  Ellet,  now  grown  to  womanhood,  resided  with  her 
sister.  She  had  retained  the  exceeding  beauty  of  her 
childhood,  but  exhibited  what  appeared  a  wildness  of  cha 
racter  to  those  who  were  incapable  of  understanding  the 
superiority  of  her  nature.  She  possessed  a  certain  elevated 
independence,  and  ardent  feelings,  forming  a  character  that 
few  could  love,  and  still  fewer  could  understand.  With  the 
enthusiastic  feelings  we  have  described,  the  love  of  natural 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  257 

objects  was  to  her  a  passion  capable  not  only  of  occupying, 
but  at  times  of  agitating  her  mind.  Scenes  upon  which 
her  sister  looked  with  a  sense  of  tranquil  awe  or  emotion, 
and  the  recollection  of  which  became  speedily  dissipated, 
continued  long  to  haunt  the  memory  of  Jessy,  in  moments 
of  solitude  and  the  silence  of  the  night.  Although  she  had 
no  selfish  pride  or  vanity,  yet  there  was  an  air  of  superiority 
in  her  every  gesture,  which,  taken  in  connexion  with  the 
other  traits  we  have  mentioned,  contributed  to  gain  her  the 
character  of  the  eccentric  young  lady.  There  was,  how 
ever,  a  life  and  animation  in  her  gaiety,  a  fascination  in 
her  manners  and  expression,  whether  of  language  or  coun 
tenance,  a  touchingness  also  in  her  purity  of  thought, 
which,  in  conversation  with  the  very  few  persons  with 
whom  she  associated  intimately,  gave  her  society  a  charm. 
The  parlour  of  Lucy  Elmore's  house  was  a  neat  and  com 
fortable  apartment.  All  its  arrangements  bespoke  the  skill 
of  a  refined  female  genius — which  genius  was,  in  fact,  her 
tasteful  and  fastidious  sister.  It  was  Jessy  who  had,  on 
this  dark  autumn-  day,  caused  the  sofa  to  be  wheeled  out 
opposite  the  fire ;  she  it  was  who  had,  a  few  weeks  previous, 
directed  the  graceful  looping  of  the  dimity  and  silk  curtains 
in  the  windows.  The  inventive  mind  of  the  same  guardian 
divinity  had  likewise  anticipated  the  more  modern  fashion 
of  the  centre  or  sofa-table,  and  induced  her  to  keep  a  piece 
of  furniture  of  that  description  constantly  replenished  with 
various  new  specimens  of  literature  and  art.  The  gera 
niums  and  other  house-plants  in  the  windows  owed  their 
flourishing  condition  to  her  training  hand ;  and  many  other 

22* 


258  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

little  accessories  to  the  tout  ensemble  of  the  room,  giving 
it  an  air  of  exceeding  home  elegance  and  comfort — felt 
rather  than  perceived — were  the  results  of  her  care. 

It  was  the  evening.  Henry  Elmore  was  in  his  little 
study,  and  his  wife  had  taken  a  book  in  her  hand,  and  retired 
to  the  mysterious  wing  of  the  house  where  her  sister  knew 
she  always  spent  an  hour  every  morning  and  evening, 
though  for  what  purpose  she  had  never  inquired,  perceiving 
that  Lucy  desired  the  object  of  these  visits  to  be  secret. 

Jessy  was  seated  alone  in  the  parlour  we  have  described. 
She  had  drawn  near  the  table,  and,  bending  over  a  volume 
of  poetry  which  lay  open  before  her,  one  fair  hand  was 
engaged  in  playing  with  the  ringlets  of  her  hair,  and  the 
other  lay  upon  the  classic  page.  The  fire  had  given  a  slight 
flush  to  her  cheeks,  usually  perhaps  a  shade  too  pale,  and, 
as  she  sat  thus,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  imagine  a 
more  beautiful  object.  Sea  and  land  might  have  been 
searched,  and  they  would  have  produced  nothing  half  so 
interesting,  or  half  so  lovely. 

A  slight  knock  at  the  door  interrupted  her  reading,  and 
a  young  man  of  polished  manners  and  handsome  exterior 
presented  himself.  The  new-comer  was  about  five-and- 
twenty,  in  a  military  undress,  and  bearing  in  his  manner 
and  looks  a  good  deal  of  the  martial  profession.  Notwith 
standing  the  great  change  which  the  lapse  from  youth  to 
manhood  makes  in  his  sex,  it  would  not  have  been  difficult 
for  any  who  had  known  him  in  the  former  period,  to  trace 
in  the  countenance  of  the  visiter  the  lineaments  of  his  boy 
hood.  There  was  the  same  brow,  surmounted  by  its  chest- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  259 

nut  curls — the  latter,  it  may  be,  a  shade  darker  and  a  fold 
thicker ;  there  was  the  same  hazel  eye,  with  its  peculiarly 
thoughtful  expression,  and  a  lip  which  ha.d  preserved  the 
native  frankness  of  its  smile.  In  short,  the  person  enter 
ing  was — but,  reader,  we  will  not  anticipate  Jessy  Ellet  in 
calling  him  by  name. 

She  seemed  slightly  startled  on  recognising  him,  but 
rose  with  a  blush  and  extended  her  hand.  No  hue  of 
rising  or  setting  day  was  ever  so  lovely  in  the  eyes  of  the 
young  man,  as  that  blush  was  in  his  recollection,  nor  ever 
did  enthusiastic  visionary  or  poetic  dreamer  discover  so 
many  fanciful  forms  in  the  clouds. 

He  advanced  and  took  her  offered  hand,  with  more  of 
tenderness  and  courtesy  in  his  manner,  for  lie  held  it  a 
moment  ere  he  resigned  it. 

Some  little  time  had  elapsed,  in  a  few  commonplace  re 
marks,  when  the  gentleman  drew  his  chair  close  to  Jessy's 
side.  "Miss  Ellet,"  said  he,  "I  have  come  this  evening 
emboldened  to  pour  into  your  ear  the  story  of  a  long  and 
devoted  attachment." 

"  Mr.  Stanley,"  interrupted  the  lady,  blushing  deeply, 
while  the  small  hand  which  lay  upon  the  edge  of  the  table 
might  have  been  seen  slightly  to  tremble,  "  I  cannot  allow 
you  to  place  yourself  at  the  disadvantage  of  uttering  any 
thing  you  might  regret,  when  you  become  better  acquaint 
ed  with  what  I  must  have  to  reply  in  regard  to  any  decla 
ration  of  this  kind." 

"  Do  not,  I  beseech  you,  Miss  Ellet,  say  aught  to  dash 
my  dearest  earthly  hopes.  I  had  flattered  myself — " 


260  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

"I  know  what  you  would  say,"  rejoined  the  young 
lady,  again  interrupting  him.  "  You  mean  that  you  had 
hoped — "  and  she  hesitated  an  instant,  "that  you  were 
not  altogether  indifferent  to  me.  But  what  avails  it  whe 
ther  or  no  this  be  the  case,  when  I  have  that  to  reveal  to 
you  which  may  make  you  instantly  withdraw  your  prof 
fered  affection?" 

"No  revelation  that  you  could  make  would  have  the 
power  to  effect  a  change  in  the  feelings  of  one  who  has 
known  you  so  well." 

"  Nay,  wait  until  you  hear  what  I  have  to  tell.  Know, 
then,  I  am  not  what  I  appear." 

"Your  language  is  enigmatical,"  said  her  lover,  looking 
at  her  bewildered ;  "  but  if  it  were  possible  for  any  human 
being  to  surpass  in  internal  graces  the  loveliest  outside,  in 
that  way  I  can  believe  that  there  is  truth  in  your  words." 

"I  thank  you  for  the  compliment,"  said  Jessy,  smiling 
in  acknowledgment.  "  But  it  is  not  in  regard  to  my  per 
sonal  graces,  either  external  or  internal — for  I  have  too 
much  vanity,  I  assure  you,  to  suppose  that  there  is  aught 
that  can  be  said  in  disparagement  of  either — but  in  regard 
to  my  outward  position  I  speak.  I  pass  for  the  niece  of 
Governor  H.,  and  the  sister  of  Lucy  Elmore.  Now  I  am 
confident  that  I  am  neither." 

"  What  is  it  you  say  ?"  said  her  lover,  looking  at  her  in 
astonishment. 

"Mr.  Stanley,"  continued  she,  "do  you  recollect  the 
melancholy-looking  lady  who  was  present  at  Lucy's  wed 
ding  ?" 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  261 

"  I  do,"  said  he,  "  and  can  tell  you  more  than  you  have 
probably  ever  known.  She  was  the  mysterious  Lady  of 
the  Rock,  and  the  noble  wife  of  the  exiled  regicide.  I 
shall  never  forget  her  touching  beauty,  nor  the  heroic  for 
titude  with  which  she  hastened  the  flight  of  her  husband 
and  father  on  the  day  when  their  hiding-place  in  the  cave 
was  discovered.  But  what  were  you  going  to  say  of 
her?" 

"  I  felt  drawn  to  her  by  yearnings  of  a  peculiar  kind, 
and  a  strange  sympathy  such  as  I  have  never  known  before 
or  since  for  any  human  being.  At  parting  with  me,  she 
dropped  no  tear  on  my  face,  but  pressing  me  to  her  heart 
with  a  lengthened  and  agonized  caress,  whispered  these 
words  in  my  ears,  '  My  daughter,  remember  your  mother  !' 
Mr.  Stanley,"  she  continued,  looking  at  him  steadily,  "do 
you  see  no  singular  resemblance  in  me  to  that  strange 
lady?  Methinks  I  can  behold  a  marvellous  likeness." 

As  she  spoke,  a  curious  similarity  in  the  beloved  being 
before  him  to  that  unhappy  lady,  whose  image  was  im 
pressed  upon  his  memory,  struck  him  in  the  most  forcible 
manner,  thrilling  him  in  addition  to  Jessy's  words  with 
the  suspicion  they  suggested. 

"  She  was  my  mother,"  continued  Miss  Ellet.  "  I  know 
it  by  an  instinct  that  cannot  err.  Look,  too,  how  little 
coincidence  of  looks,  no  less  than  taste,  exists  between 
myself  and  my  uncle's  family.  Lucy,  too,  although  affec 
tionate  and  kind,  resembles  me  in  nothing.  I  am  a  mys 
terious  and  lonely  being." 

"  There  may  be  truth  in  what  you  surmise,"  replied 


262        .  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

Stanley,  who  had  been  pondering  deeply  during  her  last 
remarks ;  "  but  call  not  yourself  lonely,  unless  you  posi 
tively  decline  the  companionship  of  one  who  desires  no 
higher  pleasure  in  life  than  to  share  it  with  you." 

"  You  do  not  shrink  from  me,  then,  because  I  am  thus 
shrouded  in  mystery." 

"Nay,"  said  he,  venturing  to  take  her  hand,  "nothing 
that  could  be  either  surmised  or  proven  in  regard  to  your 
parentage,  could  change  the  feelings  or  wishes  of  my  heart 
toward  you.  Jessy,  I  sail  in  a  few  days  for  England,  to 
be  absent  for  six  months,  and  would  know  my  fate  from 
you  ere  I  depart?" 

There  was  a  pause  of  a  few  moments  of  that  expressive 
kind  which  such  an  occasion  only  witnesses,  and  Stanley 
gathered  from  its  stillness  that  he  might  deem  his  suit  not 
rejected. 

Some  time  longer  passed,  in  which  the  lovers  remained 
alone  conversing.  Their  language  was  of  that  kind  which 
none  but  those  who  have  been  in  the  same  situation  can 
properly  repeat,  and  which,  therefore,  the  inexperience  of 
the  historian  prevents  being  here  repeated. 

At  length  Lucy  made  her  appearance,  not  like  one  who 
had  been  dealing  with  spirits,  but  full  of  cheerful  interest 
in  those  earthly  beings  whom  she  encountered.  Time  had 
passed  lightly  over  her,  and  she  looked  as  young  and 
blooming  as  on  the  night  of  her  marriage.  The  remain 
der  of  the  evening  passed  pleasantly.  Stanley  mentioned 
his  intended  visit  to  England,  and  the  conversation  turned 
for  awhile  upon  the  mother  country.  The  hour  for  family 


THE  LADY  OP  THE  ROCK.  263 

prayers  arrived.  Henry  Elmore  read  a  chapter  of  the 
Old  Testament  in  a  deep,  solemn  voice,  and,  all  standing 
up,  he  prayed  fervently. 

The  house  being  some  miles  distant  from  the  town  of 
New  Haven,  the  guest  was  shown  to  a  room  above  the 
parlour. 

A  cheerful  fire  burned  on  the  hearth  :  the  bed  was  cur 
tained  and  quilted  with  white,  and  everything  invited  com 
fort  and  repose.  The  occupant,  however,  was  too  full  of 
his  late  happy  interview  to  feel  inclined  to  sleep,  and  he 
threw  himself  into  a  large  easy-chair  that  stood  near  the 
fire.  He  sat  there  long,  in  a  deep  revery.  After  other 
reflections  more  intimately  connected  with  his  blissful 
emotions,  his  thoughts  reverted  to  the  revelation  Jessy  had 
made  to  him  of  her  suspicions  in  regard  to  the  Lady  of 
the  Rock.  His  own  mind  had  readily  received  these  sus 
picions  until,  in  reconsidering  them,  they  amounted  almost 
to  a  certainty.  What,  then,  had  become  of  the  lady,  and 
what  was  the  fate  of  her  companion  ?  She  had  announced 
in  his  hearing,  in  the  cavern,  her  intention  of  going  to 
England  for  the  purpose  of  endeavouring  to  obtain  their 
pardon.  But  she  had  never  returned,  nor  had  he  heard 
her  mentioned  since  the  excitement  caused  by  her  appear 
ance  at  Governor  H.'s  had  subsided.  There  had  been 
no  rumour  of  the  apprehension  of  the  regicides,  and  it 
was  therefore  possible  that  they  still  remained  hidden. 
Young  Stanley  now  recalled  what  he  had  likewise  over 
heard  in  the  cave,  about  the  exiles  having  been  offered  a 
.home  with  Mr.  Elmore.  He  had  been  absent  prosecuting 


264  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

his  studies,  when  the  mysterious  wing  was  attached  to  the 
dwelling,  and  in  that  way  had  missed  hearing  the  reports 
to  which  it  gave  rise,  or  it  is  possible  he  might  have  sur 
mised  differently  in  regard  to  it  from  the  ordinary  conclu 
sion.  At  his  return,  the  gossip  had  pretty  much  subsided 
into  a  steady  avoidance  of  the  family,  so  that  none  of  the 
rumours  had  ever  reached  him.  It  was  hardly  possible, 
then,  he  thought,  as  he  had  seen  or  heard  nothing  of  the 
outcasts,  that  they  could  be  residing  with  Mr.  Elmore. 
Jessy,  too,  had  never  named  any  such  inmates  to  him ; 
nor,  this  evening,  when  he  had  mentioned  them  in  con 
nexion  with  the  lady  for  whom  she  had  expressed  such  in 
terest,  had  she  evinced  a  knowledge  of  their  being.  They 
had  not,  therefore,  he  concluded,  repaired  to  Mr.  El- 
more's ;  whither  had  they  gone  ? 

Casting  aside  his  reflections,  after  a  considerable  length 
of  time,  Stanley  rose  from  his  seat  and  began  to  prepare 
for  bed.  Walking  to  a  window,  he  beheld  a  light  in  what 
seemed  a  house  or  room  opposite.  It  seemed  strange  to 
him  that  there  should  be  any  dwelling  situated  in  this 
manner  in  regard  to  the  house  he  was  in — since  it  was  in 
the  country.  He  was  about  to  persuade  himself  that  it 
was  merely  the  reflection  of  his  own  room,  when  he  saw 
standing  facing  him  the  aged  man  of  the  cave.  Convinced 
now  that  his  own  imagination  was  at  work,  and  had  con 
jured  up  the  likeness  of  one  of  those  who  had  just  occu 
pied  his  thoughts  to  so  great  an  extent,  he  turned  away, 
and  hastened  to  court  repose. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  265 


CHAPTER   XV. 


-"  Wrought  gems, 


Medallions,  rare  mosaics,  and  antiques 
From  Italy,  the  niches  filled." 

"  Thine  is  the  power  to  give, 

Thine  to  deny, 
Joy  for  the  hour  I  live, 
Calmness  to  die." 

WILLIS. 


As  the  object  of  young  Stanley's  visit  to  England  has 
no  bearing  upon  the  denouement  of  this  tale,  we  will  not 
follow  his  footsteps  thither.  It  is  probable,  however,  that 
we  may  meet  with  him  on  his  return,  for  we,  too,  although 
not  in  company  with  him,  are  about  to  cross  the  Atlantic, 
and  bear  our  reader  along  with  us. 

It  is  known  that  when  Alice  Heath  sailed  for  England, 
she  had  strong  hopes,  from  obtaining  an  interview  with 
Charles  II.,  that  she  might  succeed  by  her  persuasions,  in 
procuring  the  pardon  of  her  husband  and  father.  These 
hopes,  however,  were  by  no  means  so  strong  as  she  had 
given  the  outcasts  reason  to  believe,  for  it  had  been  clearly 
represented  to  her,  how  difficult  she  might  find  it,  owing 
to  his  bitterness  against  the  murderers  of  his  father.  Yet 
there  were  those  who  advised  her  to  the  step,  on  the 
ground  that  her  chance  of  success,  although,  indeed,  thus 

23 


266  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

slender,  was  by  no  means  entirely  void.  And,  on  this 
bare  possibility,  the  heroic  wife  and  daughter  had  torn 
herself  from  the  exiles,  braved  the  perils  of  the  ocean 
alone,  and  again  set  foot  in  her  native  land. 

So  far,  at  first,  from  her  obtaining  the  desired  interview 
with  Charles,  his  minions  had  seized  upon  Alice  as  a  hos 
tage  for  the  escaped  prisoners,  and  thrown  her  into  strict 
confinement.  Here  she  lingered  during  the  sixteen  years 
of  which  our  narrative  takes  no  account.  We  have  said 
that  that  length  of  time  may  pass,  figuratively  speaking, 
to  many,  as  rapidly  as  the  short  turning  of  a  leaf  in  our 
volume.  But  to  her,  who  was  thus  imprisoned,  how 
wearily  must  it  have  waned !  Separated  from  those  to 
whom  she  deemed  her  presence  so  necessary — with  no 
means  of  communicating  to  them  the  fatal  termination  of 
her  projected  journey  of  hope,  how  interminable  must  it 
have  appeared.  Then  it  was,  for  the  first  time  in  her  dis 
tresses,  that  the  noble  spirit  of  Alice  Heath  sunk.  Pre 
vented  from  acting  for  those  whom  she  loved,  successive 
days  presented  to  her  no  object  in  life,  and  scarce  the 
faint  hope  of  escape  from  her  imprisonment  at  any  future 
period. 

At  length,  however,  at  the  time  we  again  recur  to  her, 
she  had  succeeded  in  gaining  the  ear  of  one  who  stood 
high  in  the  favour  of  the  king.  Through  his  influence 
she  had  been  released,  and  was  this  day  to  have  an  audi 
ence  with  Charles  in  behalf  of  her  proscribed  relatives. 

As  Alice  rode  through  London,  the  lofty  houses,  the 
stately  streets,  the  walks  crowded  with  busy  citizens  of 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  267 

every  description,  passing  and  repassing  with  faces  of 
careful  importance  or  eager  bustle,  combined  to  form  a 
picture  of  wealth,  bustle,  and  splendour  to  which  she  had 
long  been  a  stranger.  Whitehall  at  last  received  her,  and 
she  passed  under  one  of  the  beautiful  gates  of  tessellated 
brickwork. 

Noonday  was  long  past  when  Alice  entered  the  palace, 
and  the  usual  hour  of  the  king's  levee — if  anything  could 
be  termed  usual  where  there  was  much  irregularity — was 
over.  The  hall  and  staircases  were  filled  with  lackeys  and 
footmen  in  the  most  expensive  liveries,  and  the  interior 
apartments  with  gentlemen  and  pages  of  the  household  of 
Charles,  elegantly  arrayed.  Alice  was  conducted  to  an 
ante-chamber.  Here,  in  waiting,  were  many  of  those  indi 
viduals  who  live  upon  the  wants  of  the  noble,  administering 
to  the  pleasuresof  luxurious  indolence,  and  stimulating  the 
desires  of  kingly  extravagance  by  devising  new  modes  and 
fresh  motives  of  expenditure.  There  was  the  visionary  phi 
losopher,  come  to  solicit  base  metals  in  order  that  he  might 
transmute  them  into  gold.  There  was  the  sea-captain,  come 
to  implore  an  expedition  to  be  fitted  out,  if  not  exactly  to 
discover  new  worlds,  at  least  to  colonize  and  settle  unci 
vilized  ones.  Mechanics  and  artisans  of  every  trade — the 
poet — the  musician — the  dancer — all  had  collected  here 
under  promise  of  an  audience  with  their  monarch,  many 
of  them  day  by  day  disappointed,  but  still  returned  anew. 

Alice  halted  at  the  door  of  the  apartment,  seeing  it 
filled  with  so  many  persons,  and  beckoning  a  page  to  her, 
handed  him  a  passport  from  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 
On  glancing  his  eye  over  it,  he  requested  her  to  follow 


268  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

him.  He  led  her  some  distance,  through  various  passages, 
elegantly  carpeted,  and  paused  before  a  small  withdra wing- 
room.  Throwing  open  the  door,  he  desired  her  to  enter. 
The  apartment  was  hung  with  the  finest  tapestry,  repre 
senting  classic  scenes,  and  carpeted  so  thick  that  the 
heaviest  tread  could  scarcely  be  heard.  Stools  and 
cushions  -were  disposed  here  and  there  about  the  floor, 
and  elegant  sofas  and  couches  were  placed  against  the 
walls.  Statues  of  bronze,  intended  to  light  the  apartment 
by  evening,  were  placed  in  various  niches.  A  large  glass 
door  opened  into  a  paved  court  heated  by  artificial  means. 
In  this  court  a  number  of  spaniels  were  playing,  and  nu 
merous  birds,  of  different  species,  seemed  to  be  domesti 
cated  there. 

Upon  this  day,  the  king  held  his  court  in  Queen  Catha 
rine's  apartments.  These  were  thrown  open  at  a  given 
hour  to  invited  persons  of  something  less  than  the  highest 
rank,  though  the  nobility  had  likewise  the  privilege  of 
being  present. 

It  is  not  unknown  that  Charles  had  allowed  many  of 
the  restrictions  by  which  the  court  had  been  surrounded 
during  the  previous  reign,  to  be  remitted.  This  circum 
stance  it  was  that  had  chiefly  gained  him  the  popularity 
which  he  possessed,  and  that,  in  fact,  enabled  him  to  retain 
the  throne.  All  who  could  advance  the  slightest  claims  to 
approach  his  circle,  were  readily  admitted ;  and  every  for 
mality  was  banished  from  a  society,  in  which  mingled  some 
of  the  most  humorous  and  witty  courtiers  that  ever  dangled 
around  a  monarch.  The  dignity  of  the  king's  bearing 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  269 

withal,  secured  him  against  impertinent  intrusion,  and  his 
own  admirable  wit  formed  a  sure  protection  against  the 
sallies  of  others. 

On  the  present  day,  Charles  seemed  peculiarly  alive  to 
sensations  of  enjoyment  from  the  scene  before  him.  Ar 
rangements  for  prosecuting  all  the  frivolous  amusements 
of  the  day  were  prepared  by  the  gay  monarch.  A  band 
of  musicians  was  provided,  selected  by  his  own  taste,  which, 
in  every  species  of  art,  was  of  the  nicest  and  most  critical 
kind.  Tables  were  set  for  the  accommodation  of  game 
sters.  From  one  to  the  other  of  these,  the  King  glided, 
exchanging  a  jest,  or  a  bet,  or  a  smile,  as  the  occasion 
suggested  it. 

While  he  was  thus  occupied,  the  page  who  had  conducted 
Alice  into  the  withdrawing-room,  suddenly  entered.  He 
spoke  a  few  words  to  an  attendant  upon  the  court,  who 
immediately  approached  and  informed  his  majesty  that  a 
lady,  refusing  to  announce  her  name,  desired  to  be  admit-, 
ted  into  the  presence. 

"  By  what  right,  then,  does  she  claim  to  enter?"  de 
manded  the  Queen,  hastily. 

"She  used  the  name  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,"  re 
plied  the  usher. 

"  Who  can  she  be  ?"  said  a  nobleman  present. 

"In- the  name  of  adventure,  let  us  admit  her,"  said  the 
King. 

The  games  were  neglected ;  the  musicians  played  with 
out  being  listened  to ;  conversation  ceased ;  and  a  strange 
curiosity  pervaded  the  circle. 

23* 


270  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

"  Does  your  majesty  desire  the  lady  to  be  admitted?" 
inquired  the  attendant. 

"  Certainly  ;  but,  no,  I  will  see  her  in  the  ante-room." 
So  saying,  he  left  the  apartment. 

Alice  had  sat  some  moments  on  one  of  the  sofas  we  have 
mentioned,  when  a  person  entered,  whose  appearance 
caused  her  heart  to  beat  rapidly,  as  if  conscious  that  he 
was  the  individual  with  whom  she  sought  an  interview. 
He  whom  she  beheld  was  apparently  past  thirty  years  of 
age.  His  complexion  was  dark,  and  he  wore  on  his  head 
a  long,  black  periwig.  His  dress  was  of  plain  black 
velvet,  and  a  cloak  of  the  same  material  hung  carelessly 
over  one  shoulder.  His  features  were  strongly  marked, 
but  an  air  of  dignified  good-humour  presided  over  his 
countenance. 

Alice,  conscious  of  the  deep  die  which  hung  upon  the 
issue  of  this  meeting,  grew  paler  than  even  imprisonment 
and  sorrow  had  left  her,  and  her  heart  palpitated  with 
such  energy  that  it  seemed  as  if  it  must  burst  its  prison- 
house.  She  rose  as  the  King  approached,  and  fell  upon 
her  knees.  As  we  have  said,  there  was  not  the  faintest 
shade  of  vital  colour  to  enliven  her  countenance,  and  the 
deep  black  garb  in  which  she  was  clad,  as  accordant  with 
her  feelings  and  suitable  to  her  distressed  condition,  in 
creased  the  effect  of  this  unearthly  pallor.  She  was  still 
beautiful,  despite  of  care  and  time,  and  the  angel-like  ex 
pression  of  purity  had  deepened  upon  her  features. 

Charles,  ever  alive  to  the  charms  of  her  sex,  paused, 
much  struck,  at  the  interesting  picture  she  presented. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  271 

Advancing,  after  he  had  gazed  on  her  for  an  instant,  he 
bade  her  rise  and  be  seated. 

It  was  dangerous  for  the  king  to  behold  beauty  in  the 
pomp  of  all  her  power,  with  every  look  bent  upon  conquest 
— more  dangerous  to  see  her  in  the  moment  of  unconscious 
ease  and  simplicity,  yielding  herself  to  the  graceful  whim 
of  the  instant,  and  as  willing  to  be  pleased  as  desirous  of 
pleasing.  But  he  was  prone  to  be  affected  far  differently 
by  gazing  on  beauty  in  sorrow ;  for  his  feelings  were  as 
keenly  alive  at  times  to  impressions  of  genuine  kindness 
and  generous  sympathy,  as  they  were  to  the  lighter  emo 
tions  of  the  heart. 

Her  glance  was  one  rather  of  uncertainty  and  hesitation, 
than  of  bashfulness  or  timidity,  as  she  still  knelt  and  said, 
"  I  behold  his  majesty,  the  King  of  England,  I  presume  ?" 

"  It  is  Charles  Stuart,  madam,  who  requests  you  again 
to  seat  yourself,"  said  the  King. 

"  The  posture  I  employ  is  the  most  fitting  for  one  who 
comes  to  ask  a  boon  such  as  I  have  to  solicit.  I  am  the 
daughter  and  wife  of  certain  of  thy  unhappy  father's 
enemies." 

The  King's  countenance  instantly  changed.  "  Ah,"  said 
he,  "her  whose  release  I  have  recently  granted?" 

"  The  same,"  replied  Alice,  "  and  I  come  now  on  behalf 
of  my  husband  and  father,  to  beg  you  to  extend  your  cle 
mency  to  them." 

"Madam,"  said  Charles,  "you  have  at  length  obtained 
your  own  pardon,  and  methinks  that  is  already  a  sufficient 
act  of  generosity,  when  I  might  have  held  you  still  as  a 
hostage  for  the  escaped  prisoners." 


272  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

"If  you  entertained  any  hope  from  that  circumstance," 
rejoined  Alice,  "  that  those  whom  you  pursue  would  ever 
deliver  themselves  up  for  my  redemption,  believe  me,  they 
were  idle  ;  for  I  had  taken  care  to  prevent  the  knowledge 
of  my  situation  ever  coming  to  their  ears.  And  except  for 
some  such  a  hope,  I  can  hardly  think  you  would  desire 
longer  to  confine  an  innocent  female." 

"Your  own  release  is  freely  granted,"  said  Charles; 
"  and  I  grieve,  now  that  I  behold  you,  that  it  should  have 
been  thus  long  delayed." 

"  My  release  is  something,  it  is  true,"  said  Alice,  "  since 
it  will  permit  my  return  to  those  unhappy  beings  for  whom 
I  plead.  But  will  you  not  add  to  this  act  of  generosity  one 
still  more  noble,  and  let  me  bear  to  them  the  news  of  their 
pardon." 

"  It  grieves  me  to  refuse  you,"  answered  Charles.  "  But 
your  father  was  one  of  the  most  implacable  judges  in  that 
parricidal  court  that  condemned  Charles  I.  to  death." 

At  these  words  Alice  leaned  back  against  the  walls  of 
the  apartment  for  support,  her  countenance  becoming  not 
paler  than  before,  for  that  was  impossible,  but  convulsed 
with  the  effort  to  repress  her  emotion. 

"Hear  me,"  said  she  at  length,  after  a  violent  struggle, 
"  I  have  one  plea  to  urge  in  behalf  of  my  request,  and  if  it 
fails  of  success,  I  will  depart  in  despair." 

"  Say  on,  madam,"  answered  the  king ;  "  your  plea  must, 
indeed,  be  powerful,  since  you  are  about  to  advance  it  with 
so  much  fervour  and  confidence." 

"It  is  in  the  confidence  of  small  desert,  my  lord.     But 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  273 

I  will  proceed  at  once  to  offer  it.  This  is  not,"  she  con 
tinued,  "the  first  time  that  I  have  come  to  beg  the  boon 
of  a  human  life  within  these  walls — a  life  not  endeared  to 
me  by  personal  ties  as  are  those  for  whom  I  now  implore 
your  forgiveness.  Unprompted  by  any  motives  of  self- 
interest,  but  urged  merely  by  feelings  of  compassion,  such 
as  I  would  fain  excite  this  moment  in  your  bosom,  I  came 
hither  to  beg  the  life  of  your  father,  my  liege,  the  late  un 
happy  king." 

Charles  looked  much  astonished. 

"I  came  hither,  my  lord,"  pursued  Alice,  "on  the  night 
preceding  that  unfortunate  day  which  I  will  not  pain  you 
by  naming,  to  solicit  the  influence  of  the  only  man  in  Eng 
land  who  could  have  interposed  to  save  the  life  of  the  late 
Charles  Stuart.  My  efforts,  alas !  I  need  not  say,  were 
but  too  unavailing.  But,  by  those  efforts,  all  fruitless 
though  they  were,  I  urge  your  pardon  of  the  offenders  for 
whose  dear  sakes  I  am  here  a  suppliant.  Let  the  loyalty 
of  the  wife  and  daughter  atone  in  this  instance  for  the  dis 
loyalty  of  the  husband  and  father ;  and  let  this  act  of  noble 
forgiveness  distinguish  your  reign." 

The  King's  eye  had  moistened  while  she  spoke,  and  an 
exceeding  softness  came  over  his  mood.  It  is  known  that 
he  was  peculiarly  alive  to  gentle  and  generous  impressions. 
"Your  appeal,"  said  he,  "is — " 

"Not  fruitless,  I  trust,"  interrupted  Alice,  who  had 
beheld  with  joy  the  effect  of  her  words  upon  his  coun 
tenance. 

"Far  otherwise,"  replied  Charles;  "but  ask  not  your 


274        ,  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

demand  as  a  boon  at  my  hands,  urge  it  as  a  debt  of  grati 
tude  due  from  a  son  to  one  who  would  have  saved  the  life 
of  his  parent." 

"  Call  it  what  you  will,  my  lord,  but  grant  my  request." 

"Rise,  madam,"  said  Charles  ;  "my  debt  to  you  shall  be 
cancelled — your  husband  and  father  are  pardoned." 

Alice  pressed  the  hand  with  grateful  warmth,  and  raised 
it  to  her  lips.  "  May  the  Lord  reward  you  for  the  blest  and 
healing  words  you  have  uttered,"  said  she.  "No  thanks 
my  tongue  can  speak  may  suitably  express  my  acknow 
ledgments  for  what  you  have  done.  You  have  yourself, 
my  liege,  known  what  it  is  to  be  hunted  down  by  those 
who  would  have  deprived  you  of  life.  And  when  you  first 
learned  that  you  might  again  hold  your  existence  without 
fear,  the  thrill  of  happiness  you  must  have  experienced 
may  be  named  as  a  fair  parallel  with  that  you  now  confer 
on  those  two  outcasts  whose  lives  and  liberty  hung  upon 
your  word.  But  there  is  no  criterion  by  which  one  of 
your  sex  may  judge  of  the  blessing  bestowed  upon  a  wife 
in  restoring  the  life  and  freedom  of  her  husband.  May 
God  repay  you  for  the  joy  you  have  conferred  upon  my 
heart." 

"  I  am  already  repaid  in  your  gratitude,"  said  the  King. 
"Besides,  let  me  not  forget  that  I  am  only  returning  an 
obligation." 

"I  little  dreamed,"  rejoined  Alice,  "when  I  made  an 
effort  on  account  of  the  late  king,  that  the  time  would  ever 
arrive  when  I  should  urge  it  to  your  majesty  as  an  obliga 
tion  on  your  part.  It  was  a  simple  act  of  compassion,  and 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  KOCK.  275 

some  instinctive  feelings  of  loyalty  toward  my  unhappy 
sovereign.  But  I  find  I  did  not  misjudge  .his  son  when  I 
thought  to  found  on  it  some  claims  to  his  mercy  and  gene 
rosity." 

"The  circumstance  affords  an  illustration  of  the  truth, 
that  deeds  of  kindness  sooner  or  later  meet  their  reward 
even  in  this  life." 

"May>  you  live  then  to  reap  your  recompense  for  that 
you  have  but  now  performed,"  said  Alice,  terminating  the 
interview,  and  turning  to  depart. 

The  King  accompanied  her  in  person  to  the  outer  door 
of  the  palace,  and  a  page  conducted  her  to  the  gate,  where 
a  carriage  was  in  waiting. 


TRUTH  AST)  FANCY. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

"Adieu,  oh  fiUberland!  I  see 

Tour  white  cliffs  on  the  horizon's  rim, 
And  though  to  freer  skies  I  fee, 

My  heart  swells,  and  my  eyes  are  dim !" 

WOOL 

•O'er  the  glad  waters  of  the  dark  blue  sea, 
Our  thoughts  as  boundless,  and  our  souls  as  free, 
Far  as  the  breeze  eaa  bear,  the  billows  foam, 
Surrey  oar  empire  and  behold  our  home. 
These  are  our  realms,  no  limits  to  their  sway, 
Our  fag  the  sceptre  all  who  meet  obey." 

BTKOJT. 

A  SEAT,  tight-built  brig  was  preparing  to  sail  from 
London.  On  her  deck  might  have  been  seen  all  the  con 
fusion  usually  attendant  upon  the  departure  of  a  vessel 
from  port.  Men  hurrying  to  and  fro  with  baggage — 
sailors  hauling  the  ropes,  and  climbing  the  ladders,  and 
fastening  the  boats  to  the  side — passengers  getting  on 
board,  and  friends  accompanying  them  for  the  sake  of 
remaining  with  them  to  the  last  moment — and  the  voices 
of  all  resounding  in  dissonant  tones  in  the  air. 

Among  the  passengers,  two  persons  might  have  been 
particularly  noticed.  One  was  an  exceedingly  delicate 
and  lovely-looking  woman,  apparently  about  the  meridian 
of  life.  She  was  clad  in  black,  and  as  she  threw  aside  her 
veil  to  ascend  the  plank  leading  to  the  vessel,  she  dia- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  277 

covered  a  face  of  such  exquisite  beauty,  and  an  expression 
of  such  elevated  purity,  that  all  who  caught  a  passing 
glimpse  of  her  lineaments,  turned  to  observe  them  more 
closely.  She  was  alone,  and  borrowed  the  arm  of  a  sailor 
to  walk  the  plank,  ascending  it  with  a  firm  and  dignified 
tread.  As  soon  as  she  touched  the  vessel's  deck,  she  put 
a  small  piece  of  money  into  the  hand  of  her  companion, 
drew  her  veil  again  tightly  over  her  face,  and  immediately 
sought  the  cabin. 

The  other  was  a  young  man  of  handsome  exterior,  who 
boarded  the  brig  just  after  the  lady  we  have  described  had 
disappeared  below.  Walking  toward  the  stern  of  the  vessel 
he  leaned  over  the  side.  He  remained  thus  for  some  time, 
apparently  absorbed  in  a  pleasing  revery,  and  heedless  of 
the  bustle  and  confusion  by  which  he  was  surrounded.  At 
length  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  letter,  evidently  written 
in  a  delicate  female  hand,  and  read  it  with  much  interest — 
seemingly  pondering  upon  every  line  of  it  with  that  length 
ened  perusal  which  a  man  bestows  only  upon  the  epistolary 
communications  of  the  woman  of  his  love. 

Finally  the  preparations  were  ended.  A  bell  rang,  and 
those  persons  who  intended  to  remain  in  England  left  the 
vessel.  Slowly  she  got  under  way,  and  the  breeze  soon 
bore  her  out  of  sight  of  the  harbour. 

A  voyage  at  sea  is  monotonous  in  the  extreme ;  the  only 
incident  that  can  occur  to  give  it  positive  variety  being 
either  a  wreck  or  a  capture — that  variety  is  a  thing  to  be 
dreaded,  not  desired.  The  smallest  change  in  the  weather 

— the  sight  of  a  bird  or  a  fish — the  meeting  of  another 

24 


eye.     Sie  was  x  aJoop.  her  tafl  tad 


--T 
-- 


fiiliij  fil      il\j     ^   i    'fi  •" 


r    J:--    EnfjMMl   :c    i 

rf 


—,- 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

no  signs  of  indecision  from  the  time  when  his  resolution 
appeared  to  be  taken.  He  issued  the  further  requisite 
commands  from  the  spot  where  he  first  stood,  in  perfect 
calmness,  and  with  that  distinctness  and  readiness  so  im 
portant  to  one  in  his  position. 

A  boat  was  at  once  lowered  by  the  sloop  and  filled  with 
armed  hands,  which  rowed  to  take  possession  of  their  easy 
prize. 

The  eye  of  the  passenger  never  quitted  the  vessel  as  it 
approached.  The  main-deck  presented  a  picture  of  mingled 
unquietness  and  repose.  Many  of  the  seamen  were  seen 
seated  on  their  guns,  with  their  cheeks  pressing  the  rude 
metal  which  served  them  for  a  pillow.  Others  lay  along  the 
deck  with  their  heads  resting  on  the  hatches.  A  first  glance 
might  have  induced  the  belief  that  all  were  buried  in  the 
most  profound  slumber.  But  the  quick  jerking  of  a  line,  the 
sudden  shifting  of  a  position,  required  only  to  be  noticed 
to  prove  that  the  living  silence  that  reigned  throughout 
was  not  born  either  of  apathy  or  repose. 

"Perhaps  you  might  pacify  them  by  fair  words,"  said 
the  young  man,  as  he  still  stood  by  the  Captain's  side. 

"There  is  no  hope  of  that." 

"Is  there  not  a  lady  below?" 

"There  is,"  answered  the  Captain.  "I  had  forgotten 
her  until  this  moment." 

"I  will  see  to  her,"  replied  the  other,  and  turning  away, 
he  quickly  disappeared  below.  He  had  known  that  there 
was  a  female  on  board,  but,  as  she  had  throughout  the 
passage  kept  the  cabin  and  taken  all  her  meals  in  private, 
he  had  not  yet  seen  her. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  281 

When  he  entered,  she  was  seated  at  a  table  in  the  centre 
of  the  cabin.  An  elbow  rested  on  it,  and  one  fair  hand 
supported  a  brow  that  was  thoughtful  even  beyond  the 
usual  character  of  its  expression. 

He  felt  the  blood  rush  to  his  heart,  for  he  fancied  the 
beautiful  and  pensive  countenance  before  him  was  familiar. 
He  stood  uncertain,  when  the  hand  was  removed  from  her 
face,  and,  raising  her  head,  she  perceived  that  she  was  no 
longer  alone.  Their  eyes  met,  and  each  started  with  a 
mutual  glance  of  recognition.  In  her  he  beheld  the  wife 
and  daughter  of  the  regicides;  and  she,  in  turn,  had  little 
difficulty  in  tracing  in  his  features,  now  matured  to  man 
hood,  those  of  the  youth  who  had  borne  the  basket  of  pro 
visions  to  and  fro,  and  who  had  spent  a  night  in  the  cave. 
In  a  word,  Alice  Heath  and  Frank  Stanley  had  met. 

If  Stanley  had  before  felt  for  the  lady's  situation  on 
board  of  a  captured  vessel,  merely  from  the  compassionate 
feelings  due  to  her  sex,  with  how  much  more  sympathy  did 
he  regard  her  now.  After  his  interview  with  Jessy  Ellet, 
on  the  night  before  his  departure  for  England,  with  sus 
picions  aroused  in  his  mind  that  she  whom  he  beheld  might 
be  the  mother  of  that  object  of  his  affections,  how  painful, 
too,  to  him  must  have  been  the  thought  that  the  worst 
fears  her  mind  might  have  suggested  would  probably  be 
realized. 

"  I  fear  I  can  do  little  to  quiet  your  apprehensions, 
madam.  I  have  before  had  occasion  to  witness  your 
strength  of  mind  and  courage,  and,  all  things  considered, 
I  deem  it  best  to  prepare  you  for  the  worst.  The  ship  is 

24* 


282 


TKUTH  AND  FANCY. 


attacked  by  pirates,  and  being  unprepared  for  defence,  has 
been  obliged  to  surrender.  I  will  remain  with  you,  and 
protect  you  as  far  as  I  am  able." 

Alice  received  the  awful  information  with  calmness. 

Meanwhile,  Stanley  had  scarcely  left  the  deck  ere  the 
boat  drew  alongside,  and  a  number  of  men  jumped  on 
board.  One  of  them,  of  about  thirty  years  of  age,  who 
was  evidently  the  commander,  approached  the  Captain,  and 
claimed  the  brig. 

This  person  was  a  man  of  a  tall  and  bulky  form,  and 
attired  in  a  dress  which  seemed  to  have  been  studied  with 
much  care,  although  the  style  of  it  exhibited  more  extrava 
gance  than  taste.  Several  pistols  were  fastened  by  a 
leathern  belt  around  his  waist. 

"By  what  warrant  do  you  stop  me  thus  on  the  high 
seas  ?"  asked  the  Captain  of  the  brig. 

"  You  shall  have  the  perusal  of  any  of  my  warrants  that 
you  may  desire,"  replied  the  other,  pointing  to  the  pistols 
at  his  belt. 

"You  mean  that  you  intend  to  capture  us,"  said  the 
captain.  "Be  it  so,  then;  but  use  civility  toward  the 
lady  passenger  in  the  cabin." 

"  Civility  to  the  lady  passenger !"  echoed  the  pirate 
commander ;  "  nay,  we  will  use  more  than  mere  civility  to 
her ;  for  when  are  we  otherwise  than  civil  to  the  women, 
and,  if  they  be  fair,  kind  to  boot.  Where  is  this  Dulcinea  ? 
We  will  see  her,  for  she  may  be  the  flower  of  our  prize." 

So  saying,  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  descended  to  the 
cabin.  The  Captain  of  the  captured  brig  followed,  hoping 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  283 

that  his  presence  might  in  some  measure  serve  to  protect 
the  lady. 

"  A  beautiful  woman  !"  exclaimed  the  pirate,  as  he  en 
tered.  "  None  of  your  youthful  lasses,  but  a  ripened  spe 
cimen  of  the  sex ;  and  with  a  look  of  sorrow,  too,  enough 
to  soften  the  heart  of  a  stone.  Come,"  added  he,  "most 
fair  and  lovely  queen  of  affliction,  let  me  sympathize  with 
you." 

The  lady  drew  her  veil  closely  over  her  face,  and  with 
much  offended  dignity  endeavoured  to  extricate  herself 
from  his  grasp. 

"Let  go  of  her,  sir!"  exclaimed  Stanley,  in  a  tone  of 
anger. 

"  Why  should  I  let  her  go  ;  and  by  what  right  do  you 
interfere  in  her  behalf?"  replied  the  pirate,  turning  roughly 
upon  the  speaker. 

"  Because  I  command  you,  sir,  and  because  I  will  pro 
tect  her  with  my  life." 

"  You  command  me,  indeed !"  sneered  the  pirate. 
"You  shall  then  see  what  weight  your  commands  have 
with  me.  Come,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  lady, 
"  cast  aside  this  muffling :  you  have  a  face,  from  the 
glimpse  I  caught  just  now,  that  can  bear  to  be  uncovered 
with  the  best." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  the  ruffian  had  torn  off 
Alice's  veil,  when  Stanley  interposed,  and  struck  him  a 
blow  which  sent  him  reeling  to  the  farthest  end  of  the 
cabin.  He  fell  heavily  against  the  brass  railing  of  the 
stairway,  and  lay  completely  stunned.  It  was  evident 


» 

-.li:  _.-  irii  iii  ::~r  LZ.  ::z,:i::  ---.:"_  :lf  ~f:dl  iz.  in= 
nil,  for  the  Wood  streamed  from  it  copiooslv.  The  noise 
brought  the  other  pirates  into  the  cabin.  Seeing  their 
T""^MM|*"  in  the  plight  we  hare  described,  they  raised 
him  and  placed  him  en  a  berth. 

Demanding  next  an  explanation  from  Stank y  and  the 
_--'-—  ::  :_v  ":  ::j.  -.---  ~-~-  :  ::  n  :l-n  ":  ::!i  iz.i  :7r 
:if-  :i  ir  :£.  -irTr  -L--  ~T:T  : ". .-.  ;-  •  .  -^  "T:  -  ;:•::.  -1.1 
tkreatened,  if  they  were  gmhy  of  another  aggression,  with 
instant  death.  With  regard  to  the  ladj,  considering  her 
ic  the  lawfkl  booty  of  their  commander,  thej  contented 
themaehres  with  wttrring  jests  at  her  expense. 

Whilst  the  '»t •*••**  abort  related  were  occurring,  the 
brig  had  beem  got  wader  way  again,  by  her  captors,  and 
wa&  moving  on  in  the  wake  of  the  sloop,  which  had  changed 
its  cowrae,  and  was  patting  towards  mad  in  a  northeasterly 
fed 


LA9T  Or  THK  BOCK. 


CHAPTER  XVIL 


ABOUT  twenty-four  hours  after  the  capture  of  the  brig, 
rented  IB  the  last  chapter,  every  endence  of  %  Tnleaft 
storm  was  abroad.  The  wind  begaa  to  9%h,  as  if  bewail- 
mjf  IB  auticnMtiott  toe  ^*ifci  wfcicfc  *tff  fltereafeu  ivr^HHOik 
perpetrate.  GradmaDr  In  i  ••iiife  vore  Tiolent,  it  raped 
with  the  violence  of  a  romg  fiav  orer  ite  pter.  A  Uack- 
•BBR,  mbMMt  as  thick  as  night,  earned  the  free  of  the  m*y, 
as  thovgh  die  Ahaighly  were  beadiBg  his  Mast  awfcl 
:  r :  ~TL  -i  _  :  _  i  _7~:tr 
speedihr  Mhnred  bj  heavr 
tarbm^  the-  ocean,  sw^dfing  bunlks  and  lakes 
sheets  of  foanu  borne  bj  the  aright  of  Ihewmd 
their  original  sovree,  and  ifintdatiBg  the  had  in  a  fearfkl 


Two  weeks  previous  to  this  atom  aa  agei  eolaaast  fioot 


286  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

New  Haven,  had  arrived  with  his  son  at  the  island  on 
which  Newport  now  stands.  The  advantages  of  that 
situation  for  sea-bathing,  at  this  day  so  thoroughly  known 
and  tested,  had  even  at  that  early  period  been  discovered, 
and  the  season  being  spring,  their  object  was  to  make 
arrangements  for  putting  up  a  rude  bathing-house  for  the 
accommodation  of  invalids. 

During  the  storm  described,  the  pair  had  remained  for 
shelter  on  board  their  schooner,  which,  anchored  as  she 
was,  had  hard  work  to  live  through  the  anger  of  the  ele 
ments.  At  length,  however,  after  four  or  five  hours,  their 
rage  began  to  abate :  the  wind  gradually  blew  less  and 
less  wildly,  the  clouds  commenced  to  disperse,  and  the 
shower  to  fall  more  quietly.  Finally,  the  sun  broke 
through  his  shroud  of  darkness,  a  pleasant  calm  succeeded, 
and  the  only  rain-drops  perceptible  were  those  which  clung 
to  the  dripping  masts  and  sides  of  the  schooner,  and  the 
rocks  and  shrubbery  on  the  island. 

As  the  old  man  and  his  son  looked  around  them,  the 
sea  swelled  and  heaved  with  the  agitation  of  the  recent 
storm,  the  effects  of  which  upon  the  waves  had  been  too 
violent  to  subside  for  many  hours.  The  tide  poured  along 
a  surf  deafening  to  hear,  and  bewildering  to  behold ;  the 
sea  came  on  toward  the  beach  in  swells,  rather  than  waves, 
as  though  the  whole  flood  were  pouring  on  in  one  huge 
body,  rising  gradually  as  it  neared,  towering  above  the 
high  ridge,  drawing  back  for  an  instant,  and  standing  as  a 
wall  of  water,  it  poured  down  like  some  mighty  cataract. 

All  at  once,  the  young  man  started  and  exclaimed, 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  287 

"  God  in  Heaven  !  father,  there  is  a  vessel  drifting  upon 
the  opposite  strand." 

The  old  man  perceived  an  object  among  the  tide.  He 
took  his  spyglass  and  looked  through  it.  "  She  is  dis 
masted,"  he  said;  "nothing  but  her  hulk  is  left  upon  the 
water." 

"And  drifting  against  the  breakers,"  cried  his  son,  in 
horror,  "without  the  slightest  means  of  weathering  the 
point !" 

"  She  makes  no  attempt,"  replied  the  other,  "  she  must 
be  deserted  by  her  crew." 

"  No  open  boat  could  have  existed  through  such  a  storm 
as  is  just  past,  all  must  have  perished." 

"  Most  probably,"  answered  the  old  man,  with  the  mild 
composure  of  his  years. 

The  hulk  was  now  in  the  midst  of  the  current,  and 
drifting  rapidly  toward  the  strand.  Their  sight  of  it,  how 
ever,  was  still  indistinct,  though  from  the  black  speck  it 
had  at  first  appeared,  it  grew  a  visible  object.  At  length, 
they  could  perceive  that  it  was  a  freight  or  passenger 
vessel,  unfitted  for  defence,  for  there  were  no  port-holes 
discernible.  She  had  evidently  been  dismasted  in  the 
storm,  and  lay  water-logged  upon  the  waves,  at  the  mercy 
of  their  violence.  The  crew,  finding  themselves  unable  to 
guide  her,  or  relieve  the  leak,  had  taken  to  their  boats 
and  left  the  ship  to  her  fate. 

There  was  nothing  then  to  fear  for  human  life  in  the 
end  to  which  she  was  fast  approaching ;  yet  the  old  man 
and  his  son  could  scarcely  behold  her  without  a  feeling  of 


TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

apprehension,  about  to  fall  a  prey  to  the  waves.  As  she 
advanced,  every  fathom's  stride  she  grew  larger  and  larger. 
At  length,  as  she  surmounted  the  summit  of  one  moun 
tainous  billow,  her  whole  bulk  was  discernible.  And' when 
that  wave  retired,  she  had  ceased  her  existence,  and  the 
receding  ocean  carried  back  merely  her  shattered  remains, 
in  the  form  of  planks  and  beams,  to  return  again  by  the 
next  wave,  and  again  be  precipitated  to  a  distance. 

At  this  instant  he  perceived  a  plank  floating  toward  the 
land,  to  which  were  fastened  two  human  beings. 

"  It  has  grounded  in  a  place  so  shallow  as  almost  to  be 
dry;  those  persons  live  and  may  yet  be  saved!"  was  the 
exclamation  of  the  youth,  as  he  jumped  from  the  deck  of 
the  schooner,  and  began  to  make  his  way  at  an  incredibly 
rapid  pace  toward  the  wreck. 

"  My  son,  return;  your  attempt  is  rashness,  nay,  it  is 
death." 

But  the  young  man  was  out  of  hearing.  In  ten  minutes 
he  stood  upon  the  cliff  which  overlooked  the  spot  he  sought. 
He  began  to  descend.  His  progress  was  several  times  im 
peded  by  the  falling  of  huge  stones  to  which  he  was  about 
to  entrust  his  weight.  Large  fragments,  too,  came  rolling 
after  him,  as  if  to  send  him  headlong  to  the  bottom.  But 
a  courageous  heart  and  a  firm  tread  bore  him  safely  to  the 
foot  of  the  precipice. 

He  was  now  upon  the  shallow  portion  of  a  small  shelf, 
which  projected  out  a  little  distance  into  the  sea,  composed 
of  gravel  and  stones.  Upon  this  a  few  pieces  of  the  wreck 
had  grounded.  He  eagerly  sought  among  these  the  objects 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  289 

that  had  brought  him  on  his  perilous  errand.  He  soon 
discovered  them.  They  were  in  a  most  precarious  posi 
tion.  One  of  them,  a  delicate  female,  her  wet  clothing 
hanging  in  heavy  folds  upon  her  form,  and  herself  tied  by 
a  handkerchief  round  her  waist  to  a  plank,  being  placed 
with  her  face  uppermost.  The  other  was  that  of  a  man, 
lying  by  her  side  in  a  reversed  position,  with  his  left  arm 
thrown  over  his  companion,  as  if  to  keep  her  more  securely 
in  her  place,  and  his  right  clinging  around  the  plank,  with 
the  tight,  convulsive  grasp  with  which  he  had  taken  hold 
upon  it.  In  both  these  persons  sense  and  the  power  of 
motion  were  gone.  The  plank  on  which  they  lay,  not 
being  thoroughly  grounded  upon  the  beach,  but  floating 
still  in  part  upon  the  sea,  was  liable  every  moment  to  be 
washed  away,  to  return  no  more. 

Just  as  the  youth,  who  had  come  in  the  hope  of  being 
their  preserver,  had  discovered  them,  he  saw  a  billow  ap 
proaching,  and  hastened  to  interpose  his  efforts  before  it 
reached  them,  lest,  in  receding,  it  might  bear  away  the 
sufferers. 

He  rushed  into  the  surf,  and  held  the  plank  on  which 
they  were  with  the  tenacity  of  some  animal  seizing  upon 
his  prey,  though  under  the  dictation  of  a  motive  entirely 
different.  It  was  not  without  a  severe  struggle  on  his 
part,  that  he  as  well  as  his  lifeless  companions  were  not 
swept  off  by  the  wave,  which  proved  even  stronger  in  its 
might  than  he  had  anticipated.  He  succeeded,  however, 
in  retaining  his  position;  and,  before  the  return  of  another, 

by  a  violent  exertion  of  strength,  he  dragged  upon  the 

25 


290  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

small  strip  of  dry  sand,  the  plank  as  well  as  those  attached 
to  it. 

He  next  asked  himself,  how  he  should  remove  the  un 
happy  sufferers  to  his  father's  vessel,  and  obtain  the  means 
of  recalling  their  ebbing  life  and  prostrated  strength.  He 
looked  toward  the  cliff  and  shouted  for  assistance,  but  he 
was  answered  only  by  the  roaring  waves.  He  turned  his 
eyes  again  on  those  who  were  before  him.  The  lady,  as 
she  lay  with  her  face  uppermost,  was  a  sight  more  beauti 
ful  in  the  eyes  of  the  rough  youth  who  gazed  upon  her 
than  he  had  ever  deemed  were  the  angels  in  Heaven.  She 
was  at  the  middle  age  of  life,  but  still  interesting  and  lovely 
in  appearance.  Her  garments  were  black,  and  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  pearl-like  whiteness  of  her  skin.  The 
face  of  her  companion  being  downward,  his  features  were 
not  visible ;  but  chestnut  curls  clustered  over  the  back  of 
his  head,  and  his  whole  appearance  gave  promise  of  a 
pleasing  physiognomy  beneath. 

Bending  over  them,  their  preserver  discovered  that  they 
both  still  breathed,  but  so  feebly,  that  the  respiration  of 
each  was  scarcely  perceptible.  Of  the  lady  especially, 
life  seemed  to  have  so  slight  a  hold,  that  there  was  much 
ground  to  fear  that,  unless  it  were  at  once  reinforced,  it 
would  shortly  become  extinct. 

At  this  moment,  his  father  crept  cautiously  along  the 
beach.  Anxious  for  his  son,  as  well  as  wishing  to  assist 
him  in  his  hazardous  enterprise  of  mercy,  if,  in  fact,  he 
had  not  lost  his  life  in  the  perilous  path  he  had  taken,  the 
old  man  had  reached  him  at  length  by  a  circuitous  and  less 
dangerous  descent. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  291 

He  uttered  an  exclamation  of  thanks  in  beholding  him 
uninjured.  Then,  after  a  moment's  consultation,  the 
father  untied  the  handkerchief  which  bound  the  female  to 
the  plank,  and  lifting  the  insensible  and  fragile  form  in 
his  arms  with  much  care,  he  set  out  with  rapid  steps  by 
the  same  path  he  had  come. 

His  son  had  more  difficulty  in  raising  the  body  of  her 
companion.  But  by  one  of  those  superhuman  efforts  of 
strength  which  great  emergencies  are  known  to  inspire,  he 
at  length  succeeded,  and  with  laboured  breath  followed 
after  his  father,  as  rapidly  as  the  heavy  weight  of  his 
burden  would  allow. 

It  was  about  twelve  minutes  after  the  old  man,  that  the 
youth  reached  the  schooner.  The  lady,  by  this  time, 
under  the  vigorous  exertions  of  his  father,  had  revived  so 
far  as  to  open  her  eyes  and  sigh  heavily. 

Both  the  men,  therefore  deemed  it  best  to  devote  them 
selves  to  the  other  sufferer.  He,  too,  though  not  so  readily 
as  his  companion,  owing  to  his  face  having  lain  downward, 
and  his  respiration  having  been  thus  impeded,  at  length 
gave  signs  of  returning  life. 

Reader,  we  will  not  stay  to  behold  their  complete  resto 
ration  to  consciousness.  We  leave  you  to  imagine  the 
circumstance.  Doubtless  you  have  anticipated  us  in  the 
information,  that  in  them  you  behold  Alice  Heath  and 
Frank  Stanley,  both  of  whom  the  storm  had  been  the 
means  of  delivering  unharmed  from  the  hands  of  the 
pirates. 


292  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 


"  Oh,  is  it  not  a  noble  thing  to  die 
As  dies  the  Christian,  with  his  armour  on? — 
What  is  the  hero's  clarion,  though  its  blast 
Ring  with  the  mastery  of  the  world,  to  this? 
What  are  the  searching  victories  of  mind — 
The  lore  of  vanished  ages  ? — What  are  all 
The  trumpeting?  of  proud  humanity, 
To  the  short  history  of  him  who  made 
His  sepulchre  beside  the  King  of  kings  ?" 

WILLIS. 


HENRY  ELMORE  and  his  wife  had  suddenly  been  called 
to  New  Haven,  in  consequence  of  the  receipt  of  a  brief 
letter.  By  the  same  messenger,  a  letter  had  also  come  to 
Jessy  Ellet,  from  her  lover,  informing  her  of  his  arrival  in 
Connecticut,  and  giving  some  account  of  the  capture  of  the 
vessel  in  which  he  had  sailed,  and  of  the  shipwreck,  with 
the  details  of  his  escape  from  which  the  reader  is  already 
acquainted.  He  also  hinted  at  some  tidings  which  would 
make  her  heart  leap  for  joy,  but  added,  that  as  he  expected 
to  have  the  bliss  of  meeting  her  before  twenty-four  hours 
from  the  time  of  his  writing,  he  would  defer  his  intelli 
gence  until  then. 

As  Jessy  sat  alone,  after  having  seen  her  sister  and 
brother  depart  for  New  Haven,  counting  the  hours  until 
their  return  and  her  lover's  arrival  (for  she  supposed  they 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  293 

would  come  in  company),  her  thoughts  and  feelings  were 
of  that  agitated  kind  natural  to  her  situation,  in  expecting 
to  meet  so  soon  the  object  to  whom  her  affections  were 
plighted,  after  his  absence  for  months  in  a  distant  land. 

That  part  of  the  letter  she  had  just  received  which 
spoke  of  joyful  intelligence  awaiting  her,  increased  the 
pleasurable  disturbance  of  her  mind.  To  what  could  it 
refer,  if  not  to  the  subject  upon  which  she  had  opened  her 
heart  on  the  night  when  he  had  declared  his  love  for  her  ? 
Some  clue,  she  deemed,  he  must  have  obtained  to  the  truth 
of  her  surmises,  and  to  the  continued  existence  of  that 
sadly  beautiful  lady,  for  whom  she  had  so  strangely  felt 
the  instinctive  yearnings  of  a  daughter's  affection.  Filled 
with  all  that  expectancy  to  which  this  conviction  gave  rise, 
in  addition  to  that  which  the  announced  arrival  of  her 
lover  was  calculated  to  produce,  she  had  drawn  her  chair 
into  the  corridor  at  the  back  of  the  house,  to  enjoy  the 
spring  breeze,  and  muse  at  her  pleasure. 

As  she  sat  thus,  she  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  a  deep 
groan,  issuing  from  the  door  opening  upon  the  wing  of  the 
house  to  which  the  corridor  led.  Much  surprised,  and  in 
clined  to  think  that  her  imagination  had  deceived  her,  and 
that  in  the  occupation  of  her  mind  she  had  mistaken  some 
ordinary  sound,  and  fancied  it  that  manifestation  of  distress 
which  she  deemed  she  had  heard,  she  aroused  herself  com 
pletely  from  her  reflections,  and  listened  breathlessly  to 
hear  whether  or  not  it  should  be  repeated.  In  a  few 
minutes  it  was  audible  again.  This  time  it  was  impossible 

25* 


294  TKUTH  AND  FANCY. 

that  she  could  be  mistaken  ;  it  was  a  groan  of  human 
agony  which  she  had  heard.  She  rose  instantly,  and 
approached  the  door  from  whence  it  came.  She  had  never 
before  sought  entrance  here,  having  always  supposed  the 
place  sacred  to  her  sister's  devotions,  and  containing  no 
possible  attractions  which  should  lead  her  to  visit  it. 

Hastily  she  glanced  her  eye  along  the  door  in  quest  of 
a  handle  or  latch  to  assist  her  in  opening  it ;  but  it  con 
tained  none.  She  then  pushed  it,  in  hopes  that  it  might 
give  way  to  her  pressure.  It  was  firmly  secured,  however, 
and  resisted  all  her  attempts.  At  length  she  was  about  to 
desist  in  despair,  when  another  groan,  deeper  and  more 
heartrending  than  those  she  had  heard  previously,  caused 
her  to  make  one  more  effort.  She  exerted  her  utmost, 
strength,  and  in  doing  so,  her  hand  accidentally  touched 
upon  a  secret  spring,  and  the  door  suddenly  gave  way. 
She  found  herself  at  the  foot  of  a  low  flight  of  steps,  up 
which  she  quickly  ascended. 

Jessy  Ellet  here  encountered  another  door,  which  stood 
ajar.  She  heard  within  the  sound  of  a  heavy  tread,  and, 
filled  with  astonishment,  hesitated  whether  to  advance  or 
retreat.  Again  a  moan  of  distress  fell  upon  her  ear. 
Stimulated  by  feelings  of  kindness  and  compassion,  no 
less  than  of  intense  curiosity,  she  proceeded,  and  stood 
within  a  neat  though  humble  apartment.  It  was  carpeted, 
and  otherwise  comfortably  furnished.  A  table,  strewn 
with  prints  and  newspapers,  was  placed  in  the  centre  of 
the  room.  A  low  fire  burned  on  the  hearth,  notwithstand 
ing  the  lateness  of  the  season,  and  a  couch  was  drawn 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  295 

near  it,  beside  which  was  placed  a  stand  covered  with 
phials,  and  a  bowl  containing  nourishment  for  an  invalid. 

Upon  this  couch  lay  the  form  of  a  person  covered  with 
a  cloak.  Jessy's  quick  glance  rested  here,  and,  at  that 
moment,  another  of  the  sounds  of  pain,  such  as  she  had 
heard,  issued  from  beneath  the  folds  of  the  mantle.  In 
stantly  approaching,  she  turned  down  the  cloak,  and 
beheld  the  face  of  the  dying  person  lying  beneath  it.  It 
was  that  of  an  aged  man,  whose  features  were  wan  and 
worn.  His  eyes  were  closed,  and  through  the  midst  of  the 
traces  of  pain  which  rested  upon  his  countenance,  might 
have  been  discerned  the  calm  beauty  of  holiness,  and  the 
placid  smile  of  one  whose  hopes  were  placed  in  heaven. 

As  Jessy  stood,  she  became  conscious,  by  a  slight  move 
ment  behind  her,  that  there  was  still  another  inmate  of  the 
apartment.  Turning,  she  beheld  standing  near,  a  form  of 
manly  grace  and  dignity.  As  she  did  so  the  countenance 
of  the  person  whom  she  viewed  underwent  an  entire  change, 
and  he  regarded  her  with  a  fixed  and  painful  earnestness, 
while  a  flush  that  overspread  his  fine  features  evinced  no 
little  emotion. 

"Excuse  my  intrusion,"  said  Jessy,  addressing  him  mo 
destly,  and  with  embarrassment.  "I  heard  a  sound  of 
distress,  and  came  hither  to  learn  whence  it  proceeded." 

At  the  tones  of  her  voice,  the  invalid,  with  another  groan, 
stirred,  as  if  about  to  awake.  It  seemed  as  though  there 
had  been  some  magic  in  her  notes  to  arouse  him,  for  his 
sleep  had  been  deep,  and  she  had  spoken  but  in  a  low  key. 


296  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

"I  heard  the  voice  of  my  Alice,  did  I  not?"  said  he, 
faintly. 

Opening  his  eyes,  he  beheld  Jessy  standing  by  his  side. 
"The  Lord's  blessing  be  upon  thee,  Alice,"  he  murmured, 
endeavouring  to  stretch  out  his  withered  and  feeble  hand 
toward  her.  "  I  knew  thou  hadst  not  utterly  forsaken  us. 
See,  William,  she  has  returned ;  the  Lord  is  still  merciful 
to  us.  Mine  eyes  have  beheld  her  once  more,  and  I  have 
now  no  other  wish  than  to  close  them  again  and  die." 

Jessy,  supposing  his  words  caused  by  the  delirium  of 
illness,  gently  took  the  faded  hand  he  tried  to  offer,  and 
he  continued :  "Years  have  passed  over  thee,  my  daughter. 
Thou  lookest  scarce  older  or  less  fair  than  when  thou  wert 
wont  to  trip  about  thy  father's  halls,  ere  trouble  visited  us. 
Time  has  not  dealt  so  lightly  with  thy  husband  and  myself. 
See  how  thine  absence  has  wasted  me  until  I  am  dying  to 
day.  Alice,  thou  must  have  been  happier  than  we  have 
been  during  thy  separation." 

Surprised  at  these  words,  Jessy  turned  toward  the  other 
stranger. 

"He  mistakes  me  for  another,"  said  she. 

"Well  might  I  too  believe  that  thou  art  she,"  replied 
the  person  addressed,  regarding  her  fixedly  in  an  absent 
manner,  and  speaking  as  if  to  himself.  "Maiden,"  said 
he,  suddenly,  shaking  off  for  a  moment  his  waking  dream, 
and  advancing  a  step  nearer  to  her,  "  by  what  name  do 
they  call  thee  ?" 

"  I  am  known  as  Jessy  Ellet,  sir,"  she  replied,  modestly. 
"Whom  do  I  so  much  resemble?" 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  297 

The  person  spoken  to  did  not  apparently  hear  the  query. 
His  whole  senses  seemed  absorbed  in  the  one  sense  of  sight; 
and  he  continued  to  gaze  upon  her  until,  in  spite  of  all  his 
efforts  at  self-control,  he  seemed  almost  completely  over 
come  by  some  feelings  of  extraordinary  emotion. 

Jessy  looked  in  surprise  at  his  working  features  for  a 
moment,  and  she  felt  her  nature  melt  in  a  flow  of  generous 
sympathy  toward  him,  as  she  tremulously  and  apprehen 
sively  repeated  her  question. 

"Whom  dost  thou  resemble  ?"  he  said  at  length.  "  Thine 
own  mother,  my  daughter — my  wife,  and  the  child  of  that 
dying  man.  Behold  your  father  and  grandfather  in  the 
unhappy  beings  before  you.  Come,  my  child,  to  this  long 
forsaken  bosom."  And  he  stretched  out  his  arms  to 
receive  her. 

There  was  a  moment's  doubt  on  the  part  of  Jessy ;  but 
a  mysterious  instinct  convinced  her  of  the  truth  of  the 
words  she  had  heard,  and  the  next  moment  her  arms  were 
about  the  neck  of  the  stranger,  and  her  voice  was  uttering 
through  sobs  and  tears  the  endearing  name  of  father. 

After  a  while,  gently  disengaging  herself  from  his  em 
brace,  she  knelt  down  by  the  side  of  the  aged  sufferer,  and 
bathed  his  feeble  hands  with  her  tears.  The  old  man 
seemed  to  have  no  part  in  the  recognition  which  had  taken 
place  ;  his  imagination  mistook  the  gentle  creature  before 
him  for  the  lost  child  of  his  memory. 

He  appeared  now  to  be  sinking  rapidly,  and  as  the  father 
and  daughter  sat  with  full  hearts  in  the  consciousness  of 
being  thus  united,  and  listened  to  his  laboured  respirations, 


298  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

the  sound  of  approaching  carriage-wheels  slightly  shook 
the  house.  It  ceased,  and  a  vehicle  stopped  at  the  door. 
A  few  moments  more,  and  a  creaking  was  heard  upon  the 
stairs.  Presently  after  a  step  fell  upon  the  floor  of  the 
room,  and  a  female  figure  softly  advanced.  The  father 
and  daughter  started  simultaneously,  and  rushed  toward 
her.  In  a  moment  the  arms  of  both  were  around  her,  and 
the  heroic  Alice  Heath  was  at  length  restored  to  her  hus 
band  and  child. 

We  should  attempt  in  vain  to  describe  the  scene  that 
followed.  From  the  state  of  torpor  produced  by  ap 
proaching  death,  the  old  man  was  suddenly  awakened  to 
all  the  pleasure  of  an  actual  reunion  with  her  most  dear  to 
him  on  earth.  Imagination  itself  will  find  difficulty  in 
supplying  the  effect  upon  all,  when,  with  hands  upraised, 
and  on  her  bended  knees  beside  his  couch  of  death,  Alice 
thanked  God,  in  all  the  fervour  of  true  piety,  that  she  had 
returned  in  time  to  shed  a  ray  of  comfort  upon  the  de 
parting  spirit  of  her  aged  father.  Neither  can  any  con 
ception  paint  her  feelings  of  bliss  as  she 'arose  to  be  clasped 
again  in  the  arms  of  him  to  whom  she  had  pledged  her 
virgin  faith,  and  was  bound  by  the  holiest  of  earthly  ties, 
or  to  meet  the  embrace  of  the  daughter  toward  whom  her 
soul  had  yearned  so  long  in  absence  with  all  a  mother's 
tenderness.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  love  and  affection,  the 
first  elements  of  her  nature,  and  her  great  sustaining  prin 
ciples  throughout  all  her  trials  here,  found  ample  exercise 
in  the  full  fruition  of  joy. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  HOCK.  299 

We  will  not  linger  on  the  scene  with  minute  detail, 
since  no  power  of  language  we  possess  can  convey  the 
transcript  as  it  should  be.  Pass  we  on  then  to  the  con 
clusion  of  our  story. 


: •;;->  f. 


-  ••'. . 


300  TRUTH  AXD  FANCY. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 


"To  sum  the  whole — the  close  of  all." 

DEAN  SWIFT. 


THE  morning  of  the  next  day  dawned  on  few  who  had 
pressed  their  customary  couches  in  the  house  of  Henry 
Elmore,  for  the  aged  sufferer,  on  the  night  that  inter 
vened,  had  breathed  his  last  beneath  its  roof.  The  body, 
extended  on  the  bed,  exhibited,  even  in  death,  that  mild 
ness  and  serenity  of  expression  that  had  characterized  his 
face  during  the  latter  portion  of  his  life. 

Sorrow  could  scarcely  grieve  that  one  who  had  outlived 
the  full  term  of  years  allotted  to  man,  and  drank  so 
deeply  of  earth's  cup  of  trial,  should,  at  last,  in  a  moment 
of  unhoped-for  joy  to  cheer  his  exit  from  life,  have  finally 
departed ;  and  Alice  felt,  as  she  kissed  his  cold  brow,  ere 
the  coffin-lid  had  closed  upon  it  for  ever,  that  her  deepest 
feelings  of  filial  affection  could  not  inspire  the  wish  within 
her  to  recall  his  departed  spirit.  Tears,  many  and  heavy, 
it  is  true,  were  shed  over  him,  but  they  fell  rather  for  the 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  301 

sorrows  he  had  passed,  than  because  he  was  thus  summoned, 
in  the  fulness  of  time,  to  a  world  where  sorrow  could  never 
come. 

He  was  followed  to  the  grave  not  only  by  his  relations, 
but  by  Henry  Elmore  and  his  wife,  whose  feelings  on  the 
occasion  were  scarcely  less  deep  than  their  own.  In  them 
the  deceased,  as  well  as  his  unhappy  companion,  had  found 
true  and  sympathizing  friends ;  and  to  their  unremitting 
care  and  attention  it  was  that  they  had  not  both  sunk,  long 
ere  the  return  of  Alice,  into  the  same  grave  to  which  the  one 
had  now  finally  departed.  Governor  H.  and  his  excellent 
lady  likewise  attended  the  funeral  with  much  sympathy, 
and  returned  afterward  to  the  house  of  their  niece,  to  rejoice 
with  Alice  on  her  return,  and  congratulate  her  husband  on 
the  pardon  of  which  he  had  been  the  bearer. 

An  interesting  scene  ensued,  in  which  Jessy  wept  upon 
the  necks  of  those  generous  friends,  and  returned  her  thanks 
to  them  for  having  so  long  sought  to  shield  her  from  the 
misfortunes  of  her  family.  Between  Lucy  and  herself  a 
still  more  affecting  embrace  followed.  The  former,  through 
the  strict  secrecy  of  her  uncle  and  aunt,  had  never  sus 
pected  that  the  tender  name  of  sister  by  which  she  had 
known  Jessy,  was  only  assumed.  But  though  she  received 
the  intelligence  in  some  sorrow,  it  was  scarcely  of  a  heart 
felt  kind ;  for  both  had  a  consciousness  that  it  was  in  the 
name  alone  that  a  change  could  take  place,  and  that  in 
feeling  and  affection  they  would  ever  remain  sisters  still. 

Stanley,  too,  was  present  on  this  occasion.  His  meeting 

26 


302  TRUTH  AND  FANCY. 

with  Jessy  at  such  a  season  of  deep  feeling  for  her  had 
been  tender  in  the  extreme ;  and  although  he  had  not  as 
yet  had  time  for  many  "words  in  private  with  the  object  of 
his  affection,  she  read  in  his  manner  and  countenance  his 
deep  and  ardent  sympathy. 

The  rumour  of  the  strange  reunion  between  the  parents 
and  child  ;  of  the  long  seclusion  of  Lisle  and  Heath  in  the 
wing  of  Henry  Elmore's  house,  thereby  explaining  all  the 
mystery  formerly  attached  to  it,  soon  spread  throughout 
the  colony.  But  it  scarcely  excited  the  astonishment  which 
such  a  romance  in  real  life  would  create  at  the  present  day, 
for  those  were  periods  of  tragical  confusion  and  strange 
catastrophe,  for  better  or  for  worse,  when  the  rendings 
asunder  of  domestic  charities  were  often  without  an  hour's 
warning,  and  where  reunions  were  as  dramatic  as  any  ex 
hibited  on  the  stage. 

It  created  little  surprise,  therefore,  when  Heath  removed 
to  Boston  with  his  gentle  and  lovely  wife,  there  to  reside 
permanently,  or  when  Jessy  Ellet  appeared  as  an  inmate 
of  their  family. 

It  was  just  three  months  after  this  removal  that  Stanley 
and  Jessy  were  united  in  marriage.  No  wedding-party  was 
invited  to  grace  the  occasion ;  but  Governor  and  Mrs. 
H.,  and  Henry  Elmore  and  his  wife  were  the  only  guests. 

We  will  now  bid  the  reader  adieu,  leaving  him  to  imagine 
that  henceforth  the  fortunes  of  all  of  our  characters  ran  in 
as  smooth  a  tide  as  is  possible  in  this  world.  We  all  know 
that  the  stream  of  actual  life  flows  in  an  even  course  with 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ROCK.  303 

but  few.  With  most  it  is — romance  aside — as  our  tale  has 
shown  it,  a  confused  succession  of  alternating  sensations, 
sometimes  dark  and  dull  of  hue,  like  the  clouds  of  winter, 
at  others,  breaking  out  into  the  glowing  splendour  and 
bright  illusions  of  a  dream. 


THE    END. 


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